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SERMONS. 



SERMONS 



ON 



DUTIES BELONGING TO SOME 



OF THE 



CONDITIONS AND RELATIONS 



OF 



PRIVATE LIFE. 



BY JOHN G. PALFREY, A. M. 

PROFESSOR OF BIBLICAL LITERATURE IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE- 



BOSTON. 

PUBLISHED BY CHARLES BOWEN 
1834. 



<*0 



V 



A* , 



■ w * ; ''' ■ — 

WASHINGTON 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, 

By Charles Bowen, 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 



PRINTED BY 1. R. BUTTS, SCHOOL STREET. 



TO 

THE CONGREGATION 

WORSHIPING IN 

BRATTLE SQUARE, BOSTON, 

THESE 

SERMONS ARE INSCRIBED, 

IN GRATEFUL MEMORY 

OF HAPPY YEARS PASSED IN THEIR SERVICE, 

AND WITH HEARTY PRAYERS 
FOR THEIR TEMPORAL AND ETERNAL WELL-BEING, 

BY 
THEIR FAITHFUL, FRIEND, 

JOHN GORHAM PALFREY. 



ADVERTISEMENT 



Most of the sermons, which compose the following volume, 
were written at the close of the year 1829. Five, then 
repeated, — viz. the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, twentieth, 
and twentyfirst, — were written at different times, some years 
before ; and one, the twenty second, more recently. The 
peculiarity of several of the subjects in the course, and the 
detail with which it gave occasion to treat some questions, 
attracted to these more attention than was usual with my 
sermons, and I was repeatedly requested to publish them. 
This would not have been in my power immediately, as, on 
account of a free use of arbitrary characters, the manuscripts 
were unfit to go to the printer ; and new engagements, which 
soon after came on, dismissed the idea from my mind. It 
would probably not have been resumed, but for the kindness of 
two friends, who lately proposed to make the copies. Had I 
been able to command time to make them, it is likely that the 
revision would have been more thorough. In reading over 
the sermons, I discover, particularly, chasms in the discussion, 
which I should have been glad to fill ; and a want of proportion 
in some instances, between the extent to which a subject is 



VI ADVERTISEMENT. 

pursued, and its relative importance, owing, partly, to accidental 
causes, such, for example, as similar subjects having been treated, 
or not, near the time. Repetitions of the same topic in different 
connexions do not give me the same concern ; I doubt, 
whether, if the thing were to do over again, I should study to 
avoid such. Nor did I see reason to digest what is said on 
each subject, into one composition. The volume is not a 
treatise, nor a collection of treatises, but of discourses, pro- 
nounced in the usual routine of parish service. I supposed 
that it was best to allow them to retain their identity of this 
kind, and to relieve the reader's attention, like the hearer's, at 
convenient intervals, taking up the subject again, when it 
was continued, with a brief recapitulation of what had before 
been said. 



Divinity College, Cambridge; 
March 25th. 



CONTENTS. 



SERMON I. 

IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO THE YOUNG. 

1 Timothy V, 1. — Intreat — the younger men as brethren. ... 1 

SERMONS II, & III. 

DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

Proverbs XXIII, 15. — My son, if thine heart be wise, my heart shall 
rejoice . . i . . . 19 

Jeremiah III, 4. — Wilt thou not from this time cry unto me, my father, 
thou art the guide of my youth. . . . 4 . . .39 

SERMON S I V, & V. 

DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

Proverbs XVI, 31. — The hoary head is a crown of glory, if it be found 
in the way of righteousness • 57, 72 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

SERMON VI . 

DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

1 Thessalonians IV, 13. — That ye sorrow not even as others, which have 
no hope S7 

SERMONS VII, & VIII. 

DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

Psalm XLI, 3. — The Lord will strengthen him upon the bed of languish- 
ing ; thou wilt make all his bed in his sickness 100 

Isaiah XXXVIII, 1. — Thus saith the Lord. Set thine house in order 
for thou shalt die, and not live 114 

SEEM ON IX. 

DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

Luke VII, 22. — To the poor the Gospel is preached 129 

SERM ONS X, & XI. 

DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

1 Timotht VI, 17. — Charge them that are rich in this world, that they 
be not high-minded, nor trust in uncertain riches, but in the living God, 
who giveth us all things richly to enjoy ; that they do good, that they be 
rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to communicate, laying up 
in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that 
they may lay hold on eternal life 140, 155 

SERMONS XII, & XIII. 

DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

Proverbs XVIII, 24. — A man that hath friends must show himself 
friendly 169, 185 



CONTENTS. IX 

SERMON XIV. 

DOMESTIC UNITY. 

Psalm CXXXIII, 1.— Behold, how good and how pleasant it is, for breth- 
ren to dwell together in unity , . . . 202 

SERMONS XV, &, XVI. 

DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

Ephesians V, 33. — Let every one of you in particular so love his wife 
even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence her husband. 214, 227 

SERMONS XVII, XVIII, & XIX. 

DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

1 Timothy V, 8. — If any provide not for his own, and specially for those 
of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an in- 
fidel. . 242, 259, 276 

SERMO NS XX, & XXI. 

DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

Ephesians VI, 2. — Honor thy father and mother, which is the first com- 
mandment with promise 290, 304 

SERMON XXII. 

DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

Genesis XLIII, 29, 30. — And he lifted up his eyes, and saw his brother 
Benjamin, his mother's son, — and he said, God be gracious unto thee, my 
son; and Joseph made haste, — and he sought where to weep, and he 
entered into his chamber, and wept there 320 



X CONTENTS. 

SERMONS XXIII, & XXIV. 

DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

Colossians III, 22 — IV, 1. — Servants, obey in all things your masters 
according to the flesh ; not with eye service, as men pleasers, but in sin- 
gleness of heart, fearing God. And whatsoever ye do, do it heartily, as 
to the Lord, and not unto men ; knowing that of the Lord ye shall re- 
ceive the reward of the inheritance, for ye serve the Lord Christ. But 
he that doth wrong shall receive for the wrong which he hath done. 

And there is no respect of persons; masters, give unto your servants 
that which is just and equal, knowing that ye also have a master in 
heaven 342, 355 



SERMON I. 



IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION TO THE YOUNG 



1 TIMOTHY V. 1. 

ENTREAT — THE YOUNGER MEN AS BRETHREN. 

For a mind with any pretensions to considerate- 
ness, not to say piety, it is impossible to look at the 
young without strong feelings of interest, Here 
are beings, susceptible of all the pleasures and pains 
incident to man's rational and immortal nature ; ca- 
pable of serving or displeasing God, serving or harming 
the world, serving or ruining themselves for time and for 
eternity. Which side of the question is to result, is now 
a problem. It is a problem soon to be solved, and the 
solution is their own to give. Experienced men 
tremble and sadden, when they think how much of 
weal or woe in this world depends on that decision. 
Christians exult or shudder, as they mark one or the 
other course taken in youth towards the world of 
retribution. No one can be surprised that, in the 
passage which furnishes our text, St Paul, among 
other directions to Timothy for the administration 
of his charge over the church of Ephesus, is found 
instructing him to address the exhortations of reli- 

1 



2 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

gion expressly to the young ; that is, — for, in the 
context, he distinguishes this class from that of chil- 
dren, — to those who, having passed their period of 
childhood and strict pupilage, have reached the age 
when they must look for themselves at their dan- 
gers and obligations, though not that when it is 
common to assume the relations of what we call 
mature and active life. 

Paul's advice to his young coadjutor ought, in 
this as in other respects, to be viewed as a directory 
for the practice of christian ministers. Accordingly 
at the present time, omitting all consideration of the 
general claims of religion alike upon every mind, I 
would attempt to set forth some of the reasons why 
it peculiarly concerns themselves and the communi- 
ty, that gospel truth should be received with impres- 
sion and effect into the minds of the young. My 
young friends, you know that this is a subject of 
vast import to you. May God give us grace to 
speak and hear under a serious sense of this ; and 
whatever may be said according with his will, may 
he bless it to your lasting good. 

I. A consideration which might properly be first 
presented, relates to the importance of the young 
as a class in society; being, as they are, the class to 
whose care all the great interests of society are about 
to be transferred. But this, as it will come under our 
notice in a little different connexion, I pass over for 
the present, to notice briefly also, 

II. In the second place, the special demand of 
youth to be subjected to christian influences, on ac- 
count of its being an age especially improvable. 



TO THE YOUNG. 3 

1. Here, indeed, childhood has, in one respect, the 
advantage over it. Childhood offers no obstacle, 
the result of previous influences, to such impressions 
as it is desired to make ; and the permanent bias of 
the life is commonly taken in its earliest years. 
Such as is the character of the child, such essential- 
ly, only in fuller development, it is likely that the 
character of the youth will be. But this calculation 
is one of no more than probability, nor can it be an- 
ticipated with nearly as much confidence that the 
dispositions of childhood will adhere to youth, as 
that the character of the youth will be matured in 
the man. For a general rule, that is a severer trial 
of the principles, which takes place when parental 
superintendence in its strictness ceases, than what 
is sustained at any later period of life. A parent may 
well rejoice, if, as far as his children's practice yet 
enables him to judge, he has succeeded to establish 
right rules of conduct in their minds, and inure 
them to corresponding habits. But he does not for- 
get, — and though he remembers with satisfaction, 
it is a satisfaction mingled with its full share of 
anxiety, — that the time must come, when, if they 
have anything of the considerate character of mind 
which he desires to witness in them, they will no 
longer be content with an implicit acquiescence in 
the rules of duty which he had enforced, but will 
subject them to a rigid scrutiny to learn what is, in 
truth, their obligation. That is a period of pro- 
found interest, which may be expected to occur in 
the youth of every reflecting person, when he comes 
to inquire whether the lessons on which he has been 



4 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

taught to practise, are to be dismissed as nursery 
tales, or acknowledged for truths of sublime and 
eternal moment. That question rightly and serious- 
ly determined, the character of the life may, with 
no little confidence, be augured to have been deter- 
mined with it ; and the age when, from the growth 
of the understanding to that point that its curiosity 
is likely to be excited, and its conclusions to be per- 
manently settled, that question is wont to arise and 
be resolved, is certainly to be regarded as an age 
when the character, under proper treatment, will 
receive a vast accession of stability and force, and 
when it demands such treatment by an imperious 
claim. 

2. Again ; youth is a peculiarly improvable age 
on account of its susceptibility of religious influ- 
ences. The religious sentiment is undoubtedly an 
inestimable acquisition at any period of life ; and to 
what maturity the fruit may be carried, at whatever 
time the seed be sown, is not for any man to calcu- 
late. But, on the other hand, there seems little 
hazard in affirming, that to give the heart to God 
when its affections are yet fresh, unpalled by any 
weariness, and unchilled by any disappointment, — 
w 7 hen it is more a habit than in after years, to give 
the whole heart without reserve to whatever pursuit 
it chooses, — there can be little hazard in affirming, 
that this is to make the choice of the religious life 
under a great advantage. The ardor and disinterest- 
edness, which are reckoned characteristic qualities of 
youth, are qualities in full harmony with a distinguished 
religious excellence. To those who are altogether 



TO THE YOUNG. 



untaught by a painful experience to moderate their 
attachments, it is easier to love God with all their soul 
and strength, and their neighbor as themselves ; and 
the flame of devotion and benevolence, fed thus from 
the first rich fountains of the spirit, will keep its 
brightness and intensity when other emotions may 
grow dull. Give yourselves now, my young friends, 
to God's service, and you do it with your capacity 
unimpaired and complete to attain the highest ex- 
cellence, and experience the fullest satisfactions of 
the christian character. Delay it, and even if you 
find the will hereafter to do what should now be done, 
you will also find that time has mournfully crippled 
your power, and subdued your spirit for the work. 

III. But I proceed to a third consideration, and that 
on which 1 am longest to dwell. Youth peculiarly de- 
mands the blessing of christian influences, because 
it must needs be characterised as, in some respects, 
a peculiarly tempted age. 

The causes, which make it so, are of course such 
as the lapse of time removes. But, if they take 
effect, they rone the less leave abiding consequen- 
ces. While some of the passions are never stronger 
than at that period, others, whose tendency is to di- 
vide and counteract, and so moderate, their control 
over the mind, are as yet in very feeble develop- 
ment. Imagination, a power whose moral influence 
is so much overlooked, has attained a full growth, 
while the judgment, which should correct it, is as 
yet unripe, and experience has not passed its infan- 
cy. With much partial vigor, there is wanting that 
balance of the faculties which belongs to true wis- 



6 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

dom ; and with many transports, there is missed that 
due proportion and blending of the affections, which 
makes real, that is, tranquil happiness. The saluta- 
ry discipline of disappointment has not yet checked 
extravagant expectations, and discouraged from rash 
enterprises ; and, in the pride of its untried strength, 
youth is quick in resentment, and impatient of con- 
trol. Some of the amiable distinctions of youth are 
nevertheless snares to it. Its high sense of honor 
sometimes leads it to prefer what is only reputed 
good, to that which really is so ; and its warm, un- 
suspicious affections expose it to the evil communi- 
cation of ill-selected friendships. In youth, too, there 
is less than at other periods of life, of that supervis- 
ion of others, which is found a powerful aid to the 
virtue of the most virtuous men. Childhood has a 
close domestic oversight for its shield, while the age 
to which it gives place is trusted with a large liberty 
of its own. It goes forth to act upon the principles 
which have been impressed. With youth begins the 
trying experiment upon the power of independent 
agency. The ampler discretion of mature life, again, 
is controlled by its greater publicity. Its conduct is 
subjected to the scrutiny of a vigilant and fault-finding 
world, a restraint which youth is not made to 
feel by any means in its fullest force. A man holds 
w T hat most he may be supposed to value by the ten- 
ure of a character without reproach, while youthful 
irregularities are more likely to escape remark, or, 
worse, may be in a degree connived at. Especially 
is this release from restraints imposed by others' ob- 
servation to be remarked of that large proportion of 



TO THE YOUNG 



young persons in a populous city, who, — resorting 
thither with a view to preparation for their future 
employments in life, — at the very period when their 
characters, be they where they might, must be ex- 
posed to a critical experiment, are removed from the 
care of their natural advisers, and the observation 
of all whose good opinion they have been used to 
regard ; and at the same time that they acquire this 
unaccustomed liberty, are introduced to a scene so 
new, that there is danger of their being dazzled and 
bewildered by it to the degree of confusing their 
moral perceptions, and to companions among whom 
it may well be feared that there will be some pre- 
pared to exert a corrupting influence. The danger 
of such persons is great, and well may anxious pa- 
rental counsels follow, and parental prayers ascend 
for them. 

But youth, inexperienced, ardent, credulous, rash, 
exposed by its very generosity, cannot but be called 
under the most favorable circumstances, a peculiarly 
tempted age ; though, while the essential occasions 
of peculiar moral danger to youth are sufficiently 
perceptible, they are so blended together, and man- 
ifest themselves so much in union, that, in attempt- 
ing to specify, it may not be easy to arrange them 
under a strictly logical division. 

1. There are, for instance, mistakes of different 
kinds, into which youth systematically falls in the 
search of happiness. Uninstructed by experience, 
how apt impulse is to betray, — it is prone to take 
counsel of its impulses. On the worst disorders 
into which vouth is thus cheated, it cannot be ex- 



8 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

pected that I should enlarge ; and, God be thanked, 
in that state of society with which we are best ac- 
quainted, there appears less urgent reason for caution 
against them than there has been in other times, and 
is in other places. The period seems to have gone by 
with us, when a foolish and mischievous excess, which 
called itself gaiety and good fellowship, was recog- 
nised as the sign of a young person of spirit. 
With a better justice to truth and good morals, in- 
temperance in one age or sex is coming to be look- 
ed upon with as little favor as in the other ; — nay, 
with some sense of its deserving the severest disap- 
probation in the age and the sex where most it has 
been tolerated, on account of the power of longer 
and wider usefulness which in them it prostrates. 
A deplorable absurdity by which society was long 
abused, suffering a licentiousness in one sex which 
it visited with the heaviest penalties in the other, is 
also fast doing away, and with it a silly maxim is 
losing its currency, which represented what was 
called a reformed, — meaning in truth commonly no 
more than a sated profligate, — as a fit object of 
domestic confidence. I pass from these subjects ; 
but if there should be any present disposed to think 
that any degree of excess or libertinism is a tolerable 
thing in youth, let them listen to what may be said in 
a word on the other side of the question ; and if they 
persist, let their future experience declare whether it 
is not as certain as God's own truth. The vicious 
indulgences of youth will poison the whole mind. 
They will infuse corruption into the fountain ; and 
what infusion is there, of virtue afterwards to cleanse 



TO THE YOUNG. 9 

the stream ? It is not of the loss of health, of time, 
of habits of industry when they ought to be forming, 
of a good name when it would affect the whole 
prospects of life, — it is not of such losses that I 
speak. It is possible that good care or good fortune 
may avoid some of these, and that reformation may 
retrieve others. But the man's criminal indulgence 
has made him gross. It has permanently dulled his 
relish for pure enjoyments of the mind and heart. 
To use a poet's words, it has 'hardened all within, 
and petrified the feeling.' It will be next to a 
miracle, if a mind so dealt with should ever again 
become capable of delicate and elevated sentiment, — 
if an animal coarseness should not cling to it like 
its life. 

2. I pass to a less palpable and less certain error, 
into which the young are prone, in their eager chase 
after happiness, to fall. There are few subjects on 
which, while the thoughtless can settle it in a breath, 
the wise are so embarrassed to speak, as that of the 
rules and the moderation to be observed in sharing 
in the pleasures of social intercourse. On the one 
hand, we are made to enlighten each other's minds, 
and cultivate each other's affections, in society ; not 
to speak of such inferior things as opportunity being 
there provided for present innocent enjoyment, and 
a school for the culture of the manners which beau- 
tify life, and the taste that gives an added relish for 
God's bounties. Questions respecting social inter- 
course, then, must be questions of the form which 
it ought to take. Indiscriminately to condemn the 
forms which in civilized and Christian communities 

2 



10 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

it has taken, is a harsh and ill considered step, 
unless we are able to show that their absence, or the 
adoption in their place of some others which we 
might propose, would not lead to greater evils than 
we can charge upon those now existing ; besides 
that it would tend to generate a morose and censo- 
rious habit of mind, and to withdraw us from the 
intercourse of cultivated, and wise, and religious per- 
sons, whose society we might find on all accounts a 
blessing to us. On the other hand, there is serious 
danger of excess, especially as it is the young who 
are chiefly concerned ; — the young, who have not 
the experience that would warn them against it. 
With their feelings, it may well be feared that the 
pleasures of society will become to them the most 
interesting subject, and take up altogether a dispro- 
portionate share of their time, their minds, and their 
hearts. A parent who has not been faithful by 
seasonable discipline to instil into the mind of his 
child high principles of duty, and sober views of 
life, may well tremble when the time of exposure 
comes to the bewildering influences of the world of 
fashion ; so real is the danger not only that the most 
improvable period of life will be made to pass 
without fruit, making the life what the year would 
be without a spring, but that a character of mind 
will be formed, which gives no promise of happiness 
in this world of useful action, or in the future 
world of spiritual enjoyment. To be conspicuous 
in the world of fashion, however well it may be 
borne when such a thing comes about without 
purpose, can be the object of no wise young per- 



T O THE Y-OUNG. 11 

son's ambition. There are only a few individuals of 
the strongest minds who have proved equal to that 
trial, and the reason why such minds have sustained 
the trials of the station is, that they have been too 
strong to covet or prize such an eminence. But in 
cases of less distinction, and accordingly less exposure, 
while the inconsiderate are applauding, the judiciously 
affectionate too often see cause only for concern or grief. 
Most painful is it, to see a period, given for usefulness 
and improvement, wasted in hollow gratifications of 
the present hour, and the energies of an immortal in- 
tellect expended on such unprofitable cares. Alarming 
is the thought of the preparation which a mind en- 
grossed with such concerns is making for eternity, 
and most sad is the thought even, of the sacrifice 
which it is making of the happiness of future earthly 
years ; for the tastes which it has formed will be 
lasting, while the gratifications which they demand 
will soon cease to be what they were in the period 
of thoughtlessness, inexperience, and novelty, — and 
querulousness, vacancy and discontent will prove 
the hard inheritance of age. Let christian parents 
be thoughtful to fortify their children betimes against 
such dangers, by impressing on them beforehand 
just views of those great purposes of life, which, 
alike in youth and age, true wisdom and regard to 
true happiness demand should be pursued ; and, as 
long as their authority lasts, let them use it in dis- 
couraging those tastes for expensiveness, display, and 
undue devotion of time to amusement, which in any 
station of life, can do their children nothing but mis- 
chief. And let the young show that they are not so 



12 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

weak as to suppose happiness to be promoted by any 
sacrifice of duty or improvement to present pleasure. 
Let them manifest a worthier ambition than that of 
being the lightest and idlest among the gay. Let it 
not seem, as if, having passed the industrious prepar- 
atory season of childhood, they thought that the pe- 
riod of actually entering upon life was the time to 
dismiss from their minds all thought of its solid 
cares and weighty obligations. And let it, once 
more, be the care of those who have influence in so- 
ciety, to put and keep the forms of social intercourse 
on their proper footing, so that the young, while ex- 
periencing all its advantages, shall be as much as 
possible protected against its dangers, discouraging 
all extravagant expenditures and show, and all 
unreasonable appropriation of time. If the young 
are the hope of society, and if the introduction to 
extended social intercourse is, for good or ill, a trial 
to their characters, this is a most serious subject for 
the attention of good citizens and christian men, 
whose judgments the community will respect. 

3. The dangers to which youth is exposed in dif- 
ferent ways from an indiscreet love of pleasure, 
have been dwelt on at such length, in speaking of 
youth as a tempted season, because that distribution 
of the passions is not entirely without foundation, 
which makes love of pleasure to be the great be- 
trayer of youth, as ambition is that of mature life, 
and avarice of age. Other moral dangers of youth 
are yet to be named, which, though somewhat mis- 
cellaneous, all admit of being traced to that undue 
self-esteem, which experience of life, with its rever- 



TO THE YOUNG. 13 

ses and disappointments and mortifications, has not 
jet come to banish. Youth is confident, and will not 
deliberate. It is headstrong, and will not be advised. 
It is positive, and impatient of contradiction. It pre- 
sumes upon its powers, and scruples not to undertake 
disproportioned tasks. It presumes on its good for- 
tune, and takes imprudent hazards. It is rash in form- 
ing friendships, and as rash and hasty in provoking and 
resenting. It is eager to take a part without giving 
itself time to form a judgment, and it is as impetuous 
in the support of a party, as it was sudden in the choice. 
It is inclined to feed its self-love by parading its ac- 
complishments ; and, in the same spirit, it is prone to 
fall into various affectations, imitating what in one or 
another has appeared to please, or devising attractive 
singularities of its own. 

You may say, my friends, that there is less reason 
to be anxious about such follies, because time will 
certainly bring the discipline which is needful to cor- 
rect them. But the benefit of that discipline will 
have to be secured at great cost. Self-distrust and 
moderation, taught by experience, make one of the 
bitterest lessons which can be learned. Moreover, 
experience is a long time in teaching those virtues, 
if it does succeed to teach them at last, and the 
want of them must all the meanwhile be severely 
felt, besides that the ill consequences of the errors 
which they displace, affecting the individual's char- 
acter and lot, can never be all retrieved. No, my 
hearers ; true wisdom is, to be wise so early as not 
to have any ill consequences of past folly to recover 
from. True wisdom is, to be modest and self-diffi- 



14 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

dent in youth. No one ever neglected that truth, 
who, if he lived long enough to become wise, did not 
live long enough to look back with much dissatisfac- 
tion, shall I say contempt ? upon his former self. 
That is a merely idle conceit, — time will palpably 
reveal it to be nothing else, — which represents caution 
as a mean, narrow habit of the mind, and temerity 
as savoring of something frank and generous. You 
think much of courage and independence, my friends. 
Show them not by hazarding all on your first impres- 
sions, but dare, by a proper reserve till you can pro- 
ceed on sufficient grounds, to give yourselves oppor- 
tunity to judge safely and act well. Thus you will 
best avoid the shame of having wrong opinions to 
retract, and wrong steps to retrace, and your opin- 
ions may then be pronounced, and your course taken, 
decidedly and vigorously, in the confidence which 
you will then be entitled to feel that they can be 
sustained. Be not ashamed to doubt, nor uneasy to 
be contradicted. No man has learned to judge well, 
who has not learned not to confide in his first judg- 
ments, and patiently to consider, nay, curiously toseek, 
all reasons which others may advance for dissenting 
from him. You think much perhaps of a power 
over others' minds. Cultivate then above all things 
simplicity of character. No man has so little weight 
with others, as he who at all events must please 
them. No man ever became truly great, who had 
not first learned to discard affectation and pretence, 
and to be willing to pass for what he was really 
worth. No man ever did himself justice by implicit 
imitation of another man, however distinguished. 



TO THE YOUNG. 15 

• 

Providence has made us all able to do our best, be 
that more or less, in our own way, by improving on 
ourselves. Be entreated to guard against the love 
of display, in all its forms. It takes care only of 
the outside of the mind. Of the mind's strength, of 
all which must do its work, and win its lasting hon- 
ors, it takes no care, nor touches but to seduce and 
palsy it. Be prevailed on to guard against that 
over confidence, which the sanguine spirits of youth 
embolden. Be persuaded betimes to learn that dis- 
cretion, which either you will learn hereafter at 
greater price and to less profit, or else will go on in 
one course of mistakes and failures, through all your 
life. Think it not too much to try your friends be- 
fore you choose them. It is not so hard, you will 
find, as the alternative of having your feelings wound- 
ed, your characters jeoparded, and your confidence 
betrayed. See good cause before you make an en- 
emy. A peevish word may do more to irritate, than 
many discourses of apology would do to reconcile. 
Delay long enough to count the cost of the enter- 
prises upon which you commit yourselves, lest the 
ancient taunt be revived for you, ' this man began to 
build, but was not able to finish.' Delay long enough 
to know something of the principles and aims of 
your party, before you become partizans, lest at some 
future day of better light, you should wish all the 
fruits of your ardent exertions done away. Why 
should a man abjure discretion, because he lacks ex- 
perience ? Why needs a man expose himself, be- 
cause he is young ? 

I close as I began, with urging that a momentous 



16 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION 

question is before you, my friends, and that the risk 
and responsibility of answering it are your own. 
Were your parents faithful in your early discipline ? 
Did they instruct, encourage, warn, control, and pray 
for you ? You now stand upon a vantage ground 
for the labors of life and of piety, and you begin to 
see what unspeakable benefactors they have been to 
you. Have they been remiss in their trust? They 
deserve a reproach from you, though by you it may 
not be uttered, which, if they had a right sensibility, 
they would rather follow in your funeral procession 
than hear. But in either case, becoming your own 
masters, as it is called, you are becoming the arbi- 
ters henceforward of your own lot. It is now yours 
to build on the foundation, or, less favored, to sup- 
ply the defects, of parental discipline. Will you 
suffer the seductions of criminal pleasure, in any form 
or under any name, to ensnare you? You must lay 
your account then, — I do not say with early infirm- 
ities and death, which, however, are too probable to 
be wholly lost sight of, — but with what can scarce- 
ly be escaped, in a community where the moral 
sense is so high, that loss of good name and of pub- 
lic confidence, which clouds over the prospects of 
life, — and with what is certain, that depravation of 
the mind which must either seal its doom in the fu- 
ture world, or be removed, if by God's grace so it 
may be, by a bitter repentance, which at best will 
not eradicate in this world all traces of the brutality 
it has contracted. Will you become that vainest 
vanity, a fashionable trifler ? Be assured that for 
every flattering deceit that helps to make you so 



TO THE YOUNG. 17 

giddy, there will be a misgiving for you in the minds 
of the wise, and a pang in the bosoms of the affec- 
tionate. The one will pity you, and the other will 
grieve for you, that you are unhappy enough to be 
so pleased with what is so unsubstantial ; that, de- 
voting this precious period of your prime to what 
will leave no lasting fruit, you are in danger of frus- 
trating all the labors and all the promise of preced- 
ing years ; that you are in danger of being led to 
depend for your happiness on what cannot be long 
possessed, on occupying a place in which you must 
be soon supplanted, and so laying up stores of dis- 
satisfaction for your barren residue of life ; that you 
are in danger of doing just what an immortal being 
ought not do, and cannot, if he be not so insane 
as to abandon the interests of his immortality, — 
living for this present world. AVill you suffer your 
bright views of life to tempt you to heedlessness in 
conduct ; will you let your ardor become presump- 
tion, your generosity, disregard of consequences ? 
In a vain trust in your wdsdom, which you are not 
yet wise enough to have discarded, will you reject 
the counsels of experience, and go on in your own 
wild way, till the sternest of monitors has taught 
you better ? Will you not be modest till the world 
has made you so ? Shall your aim be to signalize 
yourselves ? Shall your early life be all an exhibi- 
tion ? You are candidates, then, for a severe school ; 
but, not having learned earlier what it has to teach, 
your best friends can have no other wish but that its 
correction may be thorough. Disappointments and 
mortifications are hard to bear ; but to finish life 
3 



18 IMPORTANCE OF RELIGION. 

with that wilful and self-deceived mind which they 
might be over-ruled to cure, is a lot far harder yet. 
' But, beloved,' let me say with the sacred writer, 
1 we are persuaded better things of you, and things 
that accompany salvation, though we thus speak.' 
For not a few of you, it may be hoped, the guiding 
influences of the christian homes of your childhood, 
the prevailing prayers of devout friends, the gospel 
and the grace of God have not failed to produce 
something of their due effects. You have looked at 
the dangers of youth. You appreciate to some pur- 
pose its opportunities of improvement and useful- 
ness. You have some apprehension in what its dig- 
nity consists. You perceive that your honor and 
advantage, as well as your duty, require you to walk 
along its tempted way in the straight path of wis- 
dom, of religious wisdom. You would reward and 
relieve parental anxieties ; you would sustain a just 
parental pride ; you would win the general esteem 
and confidence ; you would be preparing for a happy 
life ; you would be making timely and diligent prep- 
aration for the attainment of its supreme object. 
You would even now be serving your great Master, 
and becoming subjects for his blessing in life and in 
eternity. You would be distressed at the thought 
of exhibiting to his or to human view, that most 
painful spectacle, which the wise man said it grieved 
him so to witness, f a young man void of under- 
standing.' May God of his great goodness, confirm 
and prosper in you such a spirit ! That wish sums 
up all good wishes for you. 



SERMON II. 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG 



PROVERBS XXIII, 15. 

MY SON, IF THINE HEART BE WISE, MY HEART SHALL REJOICE. 

The text brings into view the satisfaction which 
parents feel in the wisdom of their children. In a 
late discourse we dwelt at some length on some of 
the moral dangers of youth. Youth has its positive 
duties too, which it is bound to fulfil as much as to 
avoid the other. Youth is mostly regarded as a sea- 
son preparatory for the cares of mature life. Let 
us at this time inquire, what a wise use of it is, 
considered in that character. 

I. That wise heart, of which the wise man 
speaks in the text, will dispose a youth to diligence 
in preparing himself for the station in life, which 
he expects to fill. 

1. With most of you, my young friends, it is hap- 
pily necessary that you should be learning some pro- 
fession, trade or art, by which to earn your living. 
Your parents all of them feel much anxiety, and 
some of them make great sacrifices, that you may do 
this ; because they know that on your doing it, and 



20 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

doing it well, are to depend jour comfort, your hon- 
orable standing, and your usefulness in society. 
Can you be remiss in doing it, without extreme 
ingratitude to such friends ? Can you neglect it 
without extreme imprudence, yourselves alone con- 
sidered ? The time due to preparation will forth- 
with be passed, and when it is passed, however 
willing then to learn, none would undertake to teach 
you ; nor, under such a disadvantage, will you be at all 
likely to resolve on then beginning to teach yourself. 
Has that period been well passed ? — life with all its 
desirable things is before you. You may forthwith 
benefit others, and win their respect and good will, by 
the usefulness of labor, and begin to accumulate 
means for the usefulness of bounty. No man will 
be entitled to look down upon you, and all world- 
ly blessings which a reasonable mind can wish, are 
open to your ambition. Has your time due to pre- 
paration been idly spent ? — you bid fair to be a bur- 
den on society, which will not fail to give you to un- 
derstand in various painful ways that it considers you 
to be so ; and that good luck, as it is called, which is 
so apt to follow in the steps of good conduct, will 
never come nigh to you. 

2. But you, you perhaps reply, have not your liv- 
ing to get. It may seem that you have not ; but, if 
you affirm that you never shall have, you say a very 
questionable thing. In a wise consideration of the 
mutability of human fortune, no man, especially no 
youth, can promise himself that the time will never 
come, when he will have only his exertions to depend 
on for his subsistence ; and this being so, no man 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG . 21 

ought to feel satisfied while unacquainted with any 
method of turning those exertions to profitable ac- 
count. No one thus helpless, is entitled to feel self- 
respect. There are truly independent men, no 
doubt, though by no means are they alone such, who 
do not need to labor for their support ; but while 
riches have such a proneness to take to themselves 
wings and fly away, no man is truly independent, 
who is unprepared to labor for his support, though 
coined mines were in his coffers. Besides, if our 
own worldly interests do not demand to be advanced 
by us, the interests of others do. It is the rich 
man's privilege to be dispensed from cares for him- 
self, that he may take the more care of others, of 
individuals and of the public ; and if he have not 
acquired those powers of serving others, which, gra- 
tuitously exerted in his time of affluence, would, in 
a time of necessity, command their price, he fore- 
goes the best benefit of his good fortune. 

3. Esteeming nothing beneath the dignity of the 
pulpit, which has an important place in human duty, 
I will add that the obligation presented under this 
head, is not restricted to one sex. The sphere of 
female diligence, it is true, is mostly in the prudent 
arrangements of domestic economy ; but though the 
paths of directly profitable industry are unhappily 
few, and they are not looked to, as in the other sex, 
as a universal resource, it is greatly honorable in a 
female, in whatever condition, to become prepared to 
maintain her independence, should need be, by de- 
votion to some useful calling. And preparation for 
those homely, but important cares, which make do- 



22 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG 

mestic life respectable and happy, with which wealth 
is dignified, and station borne gracefully, which 
cause what ought to be competence really to be so, 
and help to make the best of poverty, preparation 
for these cares can by no means be innocently ne- 
glected by any individual. According to the com- 
mon course of things, there is a strong probability, — 
and such probabilities determine our duty, — that 
young persons of the more retired sex, will in time 
be placed in situations, where the welfare of those, 
whose welfare ought to be dear to them, will ma- 
terially depend on their capacity for household cares. 
Domestic, no doubt, makes a large part of human 
happiness ; and how far from trivial is the topic 
which I now am urging, will appear to any one, 
who will consider, for a moment, how much the 
comfort and the credit of every individual home are 
in the hands of her, who, with greater or less means 
at command, presides over its order. 

II. A wise heart in youth dictates a diligent at- 
tention to the general improvement of the mind. 

Doubtless, my hearers, our intellect is one of the 
noblest parts of our nature. From it spring some 
of the highest pleasures we can know ; and, appeal- 
ing to all our obligations, to God, to society, and to 
ourselves, it demands careful cultivation at our 
hands. Various indications of providence determine 
youth to be the most favorable time for affording it 
this culture. Youth is comparatively a time of lei- 
sure. It is a time when the attention, solicited 
by a less variety of cares, may be most closely fixed 
upon a single object. It is the time when some of 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 23 

the powers of acquisition are in their meridian ;. and 
when, — a circumstance this which lias not been 
enough observed, — the mind's sense of its continu- 
ally growing strength gives it the most grateful 
stimulus to effort. 

My friends, the opportunities of youth for laying 
up stores in the mind, which will greatly enhance 
the dignity and the worth of life, and increase the 
means of solid enjoyment and usefulness through all 
its coming years, those opportunities are of unspeak- 
able value, and it is not in any wise heart to neglect 
them. The different employments for which youth 
are destined in life are indeed of a more or a less in- 
tellectual character. Some are to serve their gene- 
ration chiefly by the labors ofthought, and others 
chiefly by the sweat of the brow, and their prepa- 
ration is now making accordingly. But, on the one 
hand, there is no profession whose elementary disci- 
pline leads to the study of all subjects, with which 
a young person should desire some acquaintance ; 
and, on the other hand, there is no mechanical ope- 
ration so laborious, as absolutely to leave no leisure 
to such as are engaged in learning it. A portion of 
that time, which is not demanded for preparation 
for a worldly calling, ought doubtless to be reserved 
for the acquisition of useful knowledge ; and that is 
the proper business in youth, of such as have not 
occasion to undertake any other. In how many 
ways particular parts of the knowledge you have 
acquired may in the course of events become useful 
to you, it is impossible to foretell ; but assuredly all 
acquisitions you have made will give added honor to 



24 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

any station you may fill ; they will establish resources 
within yourselves, which at all times will give you 
a feeling of independence, and which circumstances 
of trial may make ten-fold necessary ; they will be 
a great moral safeguard by preventing you from 
seeking, through weariness, worse employments for 
your time, and they will greatly enlarge your ability 
to afford pleasure and advantage to others. Espe- 
cially is this duty to be urged as, strictly speaking, a 
universal one, in a country where every individual, 
however humble, is taught enough in his childhood 
to become afterwards his own teacher, and where, 
in the unembarrassed competition of worth and tal- 
ent, every man's standing is in such true proportion 
to the power which he has made himself capable of 
exerting over other minds. 

With respect to the particular studies, which shall 
engage the time thus devoted, I shall not, my 
hearers, undertake to advise ; for, as to the princi- 
ples of such a choice, I am not offering a treatise 
on intellectual education, and as to the particulars, 
they are to be determined by individuals in a wise 
consideration of their individual capacities and oc- 
casions. The remark, however, none the less de- 
serves repetition for being so familiar, that the ac- 
complishments which ought to be aimed at are rath- 
er the substantial than the showy ; and such as not 
only extend the possessions of the mind, but extend 
too its power for action, both by supplying to it, if 
one may so speak, more tools to work with, and giv- 
ing it that strength which is infused by healthy and 
vigorous exercise. Not all things, it is toberemem- 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 25 

bered, that take up time, pay for it. There is such 
a thing as much pains to small profit. It is possible, 
as one has said, to be * very accomplished, and good 
for nothing.' Ornamental accomplishments no 
doubt have their worth. They are one more means 
of fulfilling our destination to make others happy, 
and they give the last grace where the useful are al- 
ready possessed ; but where these latter are not pos- 
sessed, the other are bat foils to expose the mind's 
imbecility and vacancy the more. They do but 
drag the mind's poverty into a notice which else it 
might escape. If the theory of that acute writer, 
who has argued, that in nature and art the ideas p* 
utility and beauty can never be disjoined, be not true 
in taste, it is certainly true in the aspects of human 
character. On what we call useful acquisitions in 
youth, if there is nothing to set them off, the mind 
delights to dwell. Add the ornamental, and they 
show so much the better. An advantage of a cer- 
tain value is then actually obtained ; but the orna- 
mental alone are anything but ornamental in a judi- 
cious person's view. — To glance at another topic of 
the deepest interest ; the culture of the mind in 
youth, it may be feared, is far too much a culture of 
the imagination, the last faculty which in the young 
needs to be excited. The perfect state of the mind 
for tranquillity, action and virtue, would be that, in 
which all its powers should have their due mutual 
proportion. To give them that proportion, — to 
balance them thus, — is the proper object of the 
discipline to which the mind is subjected. Stimu- 
late then the imagination of age, for in age it is dull ; 
4 



26 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG- 

but curb it in youth, for in youth it is excessive. 
Such, one would think, would be one of the most 
unquestionable dictates of good sense. But such is 
not the uniform practice. I shall not assume to dis- 
cuss so great a question as that, whether, with a 
view to forming a nice taste on the style of the 
most finished writers, an undue proportion of works 
of poetry and fiction is commonly put into the 
hands of the young ; but, as far as they have the se- 
lection of their own reading, we cannot wonder that 
their choice, when they are not more than common- 
ly discreet, should fall too much upon such works. 
It cannot be otherwise. Because their imagination 
has grown out of proportion to the other mental 
powers, it craves the food which will pamper and 
disease it. My friends, be persuaded to watch 
yourselves, — that is sufficient, and that is greatly 
important, — in relation to this influence. What you 
want, in entering upon life, is a sober and inform- 
ed, not an imaginative, that is to say, a deluded 
mind. Your wisdom and safety are, to know be- 
forehand what life is. The books, of which I am 
speaking, read anything like exclusively, or read at 
all without the correcting exercise of a serious judg- 
ment, will lead you to believe it to be just what it is 
not, and you will go into it educated for all sorts of 
disappointments and mistakes. The case is not sin- 
gular. A young mind finds itself delighted with the 
combinations of perfect convenience and enjoyment? 
which a happy fancy has framed. They are not im- 
possible in the nature of things ; and, continually 
plying itself with such representations, it comes to 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 27 

look on them as real. It finds a new sort of expe- 
rience in this imaginary world, and to this it con- 
forms its expectations. It comes to look for combi- 
nations in human character, which are never found 
there, but belong only to ideal life ; and thus its 
sound moral judgments are disturbed, the good, in a 
feigned union, which can never take place, reconcil- 
ing it to the evil. It comes seriously to look for ef- 
fects without adequate causes, as fancy is at lib- 
erty to paint them, and so is trained to make absurd 
calculations. In its all erroneous estimate of things, 
it is likely to take steps which will put its feelings 
to many a severe trial ; and while, by a painful ex- 
perience, it is unlearning the acquisitions of its 
youth, it is likely to contract a disgust for actual 
life, as it proves to be, which will equally unfit it for 
serious duty. 

My friends, whose minds are forming, shun these 
dangers. Adorn your minds as much as you will, 
but take care, first and mainly, to strengthen, regu- 
late and furnish them. The former work may be 
honorably and safely dispensed with ; the latter can- 
not. What that life is on which you are entering, 
that, and nothing else, it is for your advantage to un- 
derstand it to be. All which you may have done to 
disqualify yourselves to meet its serious events and 
duties, will assuredly be productive to you of lasting 
inconvenience and regret ; and every youthful hour 
which you have wisely employed will draw through 
life a train of happy consequences. 

III. A wise heart in youth, will dispose to a dili- 
gent use of it as a season of religious discipline. 



28 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

So far all christians must needs agree. If, when- 
ever death may come, consequences of the last in- 
terest depend on our having made a religious pre- 
paration for it, and if we may die in youth, as well 
as in age ; if a religious discipline be the proper 
preparation for the best enjoyment of the happiness 
and the best endurance of the evils, as well as the 
best discharge of the duties, of life ; if in youth 
the character is flexible, and with youth ceases to be 
so, so that then it can be moulded at will, and from 
what it then becomes, can afterwards be with diffi- 
culty, and in fact is rarely changed ; if in youth 
temptations threaten less, and time for the solitary 
discipline of the spirit more abounds, and the influ- 
ence of others may, to the best advantage, second 
our own endeavors ; if feelings congenial with 
piety, are then spontaneous in the mind, which, if no 
pains be taken to fix them, the solicitudes of after 
life are apt to wear away ; — if these things be so, 
then there are no words to overstate the importance 
of a religious discipline in youth. 

But let us look at this a little more closely, for it 
may be feared that the practical application of this 
unanimously admitted truth is much hindered by 
want of sufficient consideration of what religious 
discipline is. What is it ? Will you say, the form- 
ing of religious habits ? Doubtless religious habits, — 
the habits, in other words, of a life of devotion, in- 
tegrity, usefulness, and self-denial, — must be form- 
ed by every religious man. The force of habit af- 
fords no small security that, what the character now 
is, it will remain ; and habits of conduct have a 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 29 

strong reflective influence to strengthen those in- 
w aid dispositions with which they are in accordance, 
and of which they are the manifestation. These 
are good reasons why much use should be made of 
the power of habit, in our own education and that 
of others. But there are two reasons against con- 
sidering the question disposed of by this answer. 
One is, that the binding force of habit is greatly im- 
paired by a change of circumstances, so that he, 
whose religion has no deeper dwelling within him 
than his habits, cannot be relied on to retain any hold 
on it, if his situation should essentially alter. The 
other reason is, that the radical and indispensable 
part of religion is within. It has nothing to do with 
habits of external conduct, that is to say, except to 
form and regulate and fix them. It is their parent, 
not their child. It is incapable of being originated 
by them. It must be bottomed upon principle. 

Will you say, then, that religious discipline is the 
establishing of religious principle ? Of religious prin- 
ciples certainly, - — of right, and firm and mighty reli- 
gious principles, which by the necessity of their nature, 
will excite religious feelings, and secure religious 
conduct. But how are religious principles to be es- 
tablished ? Here it appears to me, my friends, we 
have the pressure of the question. To entitle a 
young person to speak of his religious principles, is 
it enough that he implicitly believes on the repre- 
sentation of some other, and often, it is to be feared, 
in a very loose and unsettled way, that this or that 
is a doctrine or duty of our religion ? The young 
indeed must take, and ought to take, many things, 



30 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

at first, on the word of their elders, else the foun- 
dations of knowledge never could be laid ; and a 
truth is none the less a truth, on account of many 
receiving it who are unable to show the reason 
why ; — it is not its evidence which is in fault, but 
their diligence to ascertain it. But, my hearers, in 
a world of evil communication like this, are not a 
young person's religious principles exposed to great 
hazards, if he be unable to show anything of the 
foundations on which they rest ? As his understand- 
ing opens, has he not a claim, in this as in other 
cases, to be instructed, and ought he not to feel it a 
duty to obtain instruction, in the proof and the de- 
tails of what he has in childhood been, in a general 
way, authoritatively taught ? That religion may in- 
terest him as it should, ought not his mind to be 
possessed with it ? That it may interest him to his 
utmost profit, ought he not to seek a distinct ac- 
quaintance with its truths and laws ? It is not so 
very compendious a science, that all, which is worth 
knowing of it, may be picked up by the way. He 
who gathers all, indeed, which his opportunities per- 
mit, be it ever so little, has doubtless enough for his 
safety. But, on the other hand, the greatest minds 
have not exhausted the study, nor learned any more 
in it than they thought it profitable to know ; and 
especially if a young person's mind is cultivated upon 
other subjects, while it is without culture in regard 
to this, is not this a bad omen for his religious char- 
acter ? Is he not in danger of ascribing to an inhe- 
rent meanness in the subject, what is only attributa- 
ble to his own ignorance respecting it ; in other 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 31 

words to his own mean intellectual furniture ? Is 
not, I would seriously ask, a main cause of the in- 
disposition to religion on the part of many other- 
wise well informed youth, to be seen in this, — that 
in other subjects they find something to interest 
them, because to those their attention has been giv- 
en, — in religion they find nothing of the kind, be- 
cause they have been at no pains to acquire any 
ideas in relation to it, which ideas, if acquired, 
would have been materials for comparison and 
thought ? 

I am therefore strongly impressed with the con- 
viction, that religious science, that the system of 
religious truth and duty, should be made a subject of 
systematic study by the young, as it is expounded 
in God's holy word, and in recorded observations of 
some of the highest minds upon his works and prov- 
idence. I can conceive no good reason, my young 
friends, why, while you are wisely using with dili- 
gence the precious hours of youth, in storing up 
knowledge which you hope will be useful in mould- 
ing the fortunes of your future years of life, I can 
see no good reason why some of them should not 
be carefully reserved for maturing that knowledge 
of God and duty, which in all circumstances will 
make the mind's best wealth, which will render you 
competent to act your part here, whatever it may be, 
with honor and success, and whose purpose is, so to 
speak, to mould the fortunes of your eternity. It 
is with this, as your experience shows it to be with 
other departments of knowledge, — proficiency in it 
is the reward of systematic industry. While other 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

opportunities are not to be lost, the periodical leisure 
of the Lord's day is a rich opportunity for such 
studies. Be exhorted, by such a use of it, to make 
that day a blessing to your minds and your souls ; 
a blessing to you through life and after it. 

But I am not saying that religious discipline con- 
sists in acquisitions of religious knowledge. These 
are to be made by the young, according to their 
opportunities ; and to forbear diligently to make 
them, is to forego much pleasure, to lose much im- 
provement, to incur much hazard, and deserve much 
blame. But the use of religious knowledge, more or 
less, is to implant and sustain religious principles, 
inspire religious feelings, and prompt to religious 
action. Your spiritual improvement, my friends, is to 
be always in your minds, if you are wise ; if you are 
regardful of your interest here, or of your duty, which 
is your interest always. Now is the time, by med- 
itation and practice upon them, to establish those 
principles within you, which will give the best assur- 
ance of a prosperous life in the world's account, and, 
infinitely more, of a truly prosperous life, that which 
secures its great objects. Now is the time, in the 
fresh warmth of your youthful feelings, to lift them 
up to God in devotion, and spread them out to men 
in brotherly love. So trained, age will never chill, 
reverses will not irritate them. Now is the time, 
with reflection, self-watchfulness, prayer, the taking 
of good counsel, and the following of good exam- 
ples, to do that work upon your characters, which 
done now, will be effectually, and not now, it is to 
be feared, will be never done. Now is the time, in 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 33 

the nobleness of your youthful strength, so signally 
to foil the powers of temptation, as to secure to 
yourselves the perpetual mastery. Exhibit to us a 
religious youth, we shall little hesitate to promise 
you a religious and honored manhood. 

IV. I might go on from this, to name, as a fourth 
object to be contemplated by a wise heart in youth, 
the establishing of a good reputation ; and certainly 
it is especially wise to have regard to this, in a 
community where so great is the demand for well 
principled talent, and so universal a high sense of it, 
and so free the sphere for its exertion, that he who 
is furnished with this has enough to begin the world 
with. Men respect, and place confidence in, and 
from good feeling love to favor, and for their own 
interest's sake are disposed to employ, the youth 
who has shown that he respects himself; so that 
constant experience shows us, that, in a worldly 
calculation merely, — taking the chances of life, — 
a good name is a better thing to begin it with, than 
a large capital. Merit makes friends of strangers, 
disposed to make up the deficiencies of opportunity 
which an adverse fortune has created ; and it is 
not among us in the common course of things, 
for distinguished worth in youth to remain in the 
back ground for want of a helping hand. But I do 
not detain you to dwell on this topic, because he 
who should have obeyed the other dictates of youth- 
ful wisdom, previously remarked on, would have 
taken the only sure and proper way to establish a 
good reputation, — that is by deserving it ; and 
because, though those real present interests, to 

5 



34 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

which it is our wisdom and duty to have regard, 
have often come into incidental notice in the course 
of these remarks, I would not dishonor the sub- 
ject by urging any consideration which should be 
exclusively of that character. The well deserved 
praise of good men is good, in itself and in its 
consequences ; but I trust that I am speaking to 
those who will prize the praise of God far more. 

That world, my friends, which is offering you its 
patronage, is also urging its claims ; and this brings 
me again to the topic, which 1 passed hastily over 
in the last discourse, and to which 1 am now to 
confine myself in urging, in conclusion, your diligent 
application to the several duties of your age, which 
have now been specified ; — the topic, namely, of 
t he importance of the young, as a class in society. 

How can a deep concern fail to be felt in the 
character of the young ? All the great interests of 
society are about to be transferred to their care. 
As yet, my friends, your agency is limited ; but, 
while we speak, the time is drawing nearer when 
your conduct is to have a wide influence on the hap- 
piness of other men, on the well being of the communi- 
ty ; and what that influence will be, is a question even 
now determining. You are forthwith to assume the 
various trusts of society along with your elders, on an 
equal ground ; and before long you are to displace 
them ; and the spirit in which you will discharge these 
will not remain to be formed, when the time has come 
for their discharge. It will prove to have been 
brought from the period which you now are passing. 
The character of the youth will, with all but certainty, 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 35 

be the character of the man. You may soon be exert- 
ing that mighty influence, which belongs to the 
closer domestic ties. You will unavoidably be put- 
ting forth a wider agency by means of your senti- 
ments and example. In the pursuit and in the use 
of ampler resources than now, you will be benefiting 
or wronging others. Whatever power, in short, in- 
dividuals in social life exert over one another, with 
that power you will be invested, to employ for good 
or evil, according to the principles which now are 
establishing themselves within you. The moral 
tone of society, which is to communicate itself to 
the next generation, you must aid to give. You 
are to become responsible for the care of institutions, 
whose due support deeply concerns the common 
good. As magistrates or as citizens, you are to 
take care for the impartial administration of whole- 
some laws. You are to be trusted with the main- 
tenance of our schools and churches. According as 
you are faithful or otherwise to your trust, our child- 
ren will enter upon life under happy auspices, or be 
defrauded of the rich inheritance which it belonged 
to you to transmit to them ; and the community 
will enjoy, unimpaired or increased, or will lose, the 
benefits prepared for it by the generous prospective 
wisdom of former days. To avoid this hazard is 
impossible. In the order of nature you are taking 
our places ; we must needs first share them with, 
and then resign them to you. When so much is at 
stake, can your elders think without a deep solici- 
tude how you will fill them, or fail, while as yet 
they may claim the privilege of offering you coun- 



36 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG . 

sel, to charge you, with a solemn earnestness, to fill 
them in a manner which God, jour consciences, and 
posterity, may commend ? 

Nor is youth, by any means, an important age 
merely for its promise of what will be. The young 
have already their place in society, and it is a place 
of prominence and consequence. There is scarcely 
any power committed to man to promote or hinder 
the happiness of man, equal to that power which 
the young possess to gladden or distress parental 
hearts. Common misfortunes have little force to de- 
press one, who sees his children growing up beneath 
his eye all that his affection and his pride desire, 
prepared to enter into honorable competition for the 
prizes of society, and welcomed to its trusts by 
those whom their exemplary youth has assured 
how safely they may be confided in ; and, on the 
other hand, there is nothing but trust in God, that 
can do much to sustain a heart which a child's mis- 
conduct has wrung. Is it in the power of the 
young, my friends, to carry joy into the bosom of 
every family of which a community is made up, or 
to aim at its peace a stunning blow ; and is it not 
a great power which is committed to that age, a 
great responsibleness which lies upon it ? Is every 
young person, in the common course of things, nec- 
essarily charged with such a trust for others' good, 
and can his use of it be regarded with anything 
approaching to indifference ? 

Nor is the agency of the young confined even 
within such limits. In one way, indeed, they must 
needs exert an influence, mischievous or beneficial, 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 37 

in a most important and extensive sphere. The 
example of the young, of whatever character it be, 
has more power over their equals and their juniors, 
than that of persons more advanced in life. Besides 
the intrinsically attractive qualities of that age, 
youth and childhood naturally sympathise more 
with youth than with maturer life, and are therefore 
more prone to imitate it. And thus this age, exer- 
cising a peculiar sway in its example at the precise 
period when the character commonly takes a perma- 
nent direction, may be said to hold the character 
of future generations, and accordingly the destinies 
of the world, to a great extent in its control. Nor 
by the force of its example merely, does it fill a 
place favorable to a wide and efficient usefulness. 
What is there to prevent youth from being a period 
of various benevolent action, if the disposition be 
not wanting? It has leisure. It has health. It 
has tender feelings to be moved by ills which demand 
a remedy. It ought to have industry for others' ser- 
vice ; and, if not experienced wisdom to decide on the 
eligible course in embarrassed circumstances, it may 
be presumed to have judgment adequate to the de- 
mands of those much more numerous occasions for 
useful action, which present no difficulty. No, my 
friends ; we must not wait for the period of mature 
life to come, before we think that it becomes us to 
be useful. That age, with all its advantages, will 
be sure to bring many engagements and perplexities. 
The young, if they will but be on the watch for 
opportunities of serving others, will be sure to find 
them in abundance. So many and so active years 



38 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

ought not to be lost to the great purpose for which 
we should desire to live ; and he who is wise, will 
wish to obtain the advantage of as much practice 
beforehand as possible, in a work, in which, when 
his time of full power shall have come, it is his am- 
bition to be distinguished. 

But I am intrenching on a part of the subject, which 
it was my purpose to reserve for a third discourse. 
For the present I dismiss it, only entreating as 
brethren those whom it concerns, to consider what 
are the powers which they can exercise, the tempta- 
tions which beset, and the excitements which en- 
courage them ; and seriously to inquire, what and 
how much it is, that God, that the community, that 
regard to their own best interests, are now demand- 
ing at their hands. 



SERMON III. 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG 



JEREMIAH III. 4 . 

WILT THOU NOT FROM THIS TIME CRY UNTO ME, MY FATHER, THOU ART 
THE GUIDE OF MY YOUTH ? 

In some late observations on duties of youth, it 
was our aim to limit ourselves to those of its duties, 
which belong to it regarded as a season of prepara- 
tion for mature and more active life. I have now to 
ask, whether it is not apt to be too exclusively con- 
sidered in that character. The duties of prepara- 
tion of course refer directly to ourselves alone. 
But are not the young already members of society, 
and as such do they not already owe services to so- 
ciety ? Must they wait for all their opportunities to 
be useful ? Have they as yet none in their posses- 
sion ? And if not so, is it right that all the disposi- 
tions and the powers for usefulness, which by uni- 
versal consent they ought now to be forming, should 
be kept in reserve, without fruit and without exer- 
cise, till they shall be of riper years ? 

Perhaps, my hearers, the young are not sufficiently 
often reminded of their present place and responsi- 



40 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

bility in the social system. I fear, that in urging on 
them the obligation of fitting themselves for what 
they are to do for others' benefit hereafter, we leave 
too much out of view their obligation to attend to what 
they are capable of doing for the good of others 
now. I fear that in holding youth up as the inval- 
uable period of preparation, we too commonly for- 
get, and lead others to forget, that it is a time for 
action likewise. In addition to the loss of all the 
good, which the young might be prevented from do- 
ing by adopting such an error, it would even go far 
to prevent them from using their age well for the 
purpose to which it would thus be restricted, as a 
time of discipline merely. Without practice in the 
labors of social duty, the capacity for them could 
be but imperfectly acquired for future use ; and to 
confine the attention to cares, funvever important, 
whose whole direct relation is to ourselves, tends in 
its degree to narrow and make us selfish. 

Is there no opportunity in your present age, my 
young friends, for duties which we trust you are dil- 
igently preparing yourselves to fulfil, when more 
years shall have brought you ampler opportunity ? 
By what services is it, if at all, let me ask, that in 
your mature age you are to become valuable mem- 
bers of society ? Without pretending to an exact 
or a complete division, I will say, as a specification 
sufficient for our purpose, that they are those of an 
upright, a beneficent, and an exemplary life. Jus- 
tice, active kindness, and the setting of a good ex- 
ample, these are the great points of social duty. By 
these it is that human welfare is promoted, and a 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 41 

place in society religiously filled ; and occasions and 
competency for these do not appear to be confined 
to the period of our ripened strength. 

I. That quality, which has been said to manifest 
man for God's noblest work, honesty, uprightness, 
integrity, finds occasion for its exercise in the early 
years of life. 

1. I am not about to remind you at any length, 
my young friends, of the heinous guilt of the 
grosser forms of dishonesty. I trust that I speak to 
no one, who stands in need of such an exhortation. 
1 would hope that no one hears me, with whom 
another's property, under any temptation, and with 
any assurance of secrecy, would not be as sacred as 
if the world were looking on. If it were otherwise 
with any individual, I would implore him to consider 
what else but hopeless ruin, in this life and the life 
to come, he can suppose to be awaiting him. I 
would pray him, in such a perilous moment, to re- 
flect whether it be much different from an unpardon- 
able sin that he is meditating ; unpardonable, be- 
cause such wickedness in youth argues a depravity 
so radical, as to leave little room to hope that it will 
ever be repented of. — I would fain believe that none 
are here who need to be warned of the great dishonor 
and criminality of falsehood, or who ever suffer 
any but the simple ingenuous words of truth to pass 
their guileless lips. Practised so early in any laxer 
modes of speech, there is but too much reason to 
fear, that they have learned a language, of which the 
world will teach a freer and freer use, till their shame 
is public, and their doom is sealed 
6 



42 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

But, my friends, uprightness is a virtue thorough 
and exact in its demands. It is not satisfied by a 
mere forbearance ever to cheat another by a theft 
or an untruth. The reason why it holds so high a 
place among the social duties is, that it teaches a 
scrupulous regard to all the rightful claims which 
others have upon us. It makes him whom it actuates 
a subject for the perfect confidence of other minds. 
It is in this character that it is the glory of the ma- 
ture, and in this it enforces its obligations alike upon 
the young, who certainly in their relations to their 
equals find similar occasions for equitable conduct, and 
encounter similar temptations to swerve from it, to 
what affect riper years. 

2. Do you ask me to specify instances in which 
the young are to show themselves upright and trust- 
worthy ? I answer by referring to some, possibly 
more likely to be overlooked than those which are 
sanctioned by rules of honor among equals. Some 
of you, with a view to your preparation for a life of 
business, are placed in situations where the interests 
of your employers are committed to your care. 
They are training you to a knowledge which, by and 
by, you are to find valuable ; and, as compensation for 
this, your services have been promised them, and are 
their due. On your faithful rendering of these 
services, the prosperity of those to whom you 
stand thus related, to a great extent depends ; and 
this a young person of a delicate sense of justice 
will never suffer himself to forget. Not only will 
he not mar his employer's interest in the smallest 
particular himself, he will not knowingly suffer oth- 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 43 

(is to do it. Not only will he not prejudice them 
In any fault, he will not do it by any remissness or 
negligence. He will not need to be watched, to 
make him do their tasks conscientiously and thor- 
oughly, to the best of his power. He will not think 
of defrauding them of his time, which is their prop- 
erty. He will make their interest his own, and be 
on the watch for proper methods to advance it. As 
far as his relation to them is concerned, the more 
advantageous he can make it to them, the better 
will he be satisfied. 

3. And as to those in whom no such trusts are 
reposed, do no obligations of integrity rest on them ? 
Are you just, my young friends, to whom parental 
indulgence secures a peculiarly large portion of 
your youth to be a time of leisure and study, — are 
you just if, for want of a proper diligence, you lose 
the benefit of opportunities for improvement which 
have been provided for you at great, perhaps incon- 
venient cost? Is it an equitable treatment of your 
friends thus in fact to defraud them of what, — 
whether at a sacrifice to themselves or not, — they 
were intending to appropriate to your best advantage ? 
— You stand in an important relation to those who 
have been selected, either by your parents or the 
public, to guide and assist your studies ; a relation, 
let me say, which admits of a conduct on your part 
towards them equitable or otherwise, honorable or 
dishonorable. To omit other considerations, they 
are as sensible of the worth of a fair fame as you 
can be; and the fame which they desire, — for every 
right-minded man seeks his fame in his own walk of 



44 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

life, — is to rest on their having succeeded in making 
you, their pupils, blessings to the community. Are 
you not chargeable with a shameful injustice if your 
sloth or wilfulness defrauds them of that fame? 
And do you not wrong them 2 — are you doing that 
which is to be reckoned right and fair between man 
and man, — if ever, passing a hasty judgment upon 
measures of theirs, which, as far as circumstances 
can render motives probable, are to be presumed to 
have been dictated by nothing but regard to your 
good, you endeavor to obstruct or to embarrass them ? 
Has not the community, which, through its official 
representatives, is at much pains to secure to many 
of you the advantages which you possess, has it not 
a right to complain of injustice done to itself by 
every instance of negligence or misuse of these ad- 
vantages on your part ? Is not such negligence a 
gross wrong to them whose pious prospective public 
spirit provided the advantages which any of you in 
public institutions are enjoying? You are living in 
part at their cost. They poured their fortunes into 
the treasury of learning to furnish for you means of 
improvement, which the aggregate fortunes of all the 
families to which you belong, devoted to this sin- 
gle object, could not collect, — if the collection re- 
mained to be made,— -in season for you to use them. 
They provided these means for the purpose, — in 
other words, they have offered them to you on the 
condition, — that you and through you the public, 
should be profited by them. If you accept the gift, 
and at the same time through your remissness with- 
hold the condition, do you not deserve, in an impor- 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 45 

tant sense, to be qualified by a name whieh it would 
pain you that any one should couple with yours? — 
Is it strictly upright in any to put those who are 
chargeable for them to undue expenses, for want of 
attention or arrangement, or for the sake of gratify- 
ing capricious tastes, or an extravagant love of 
show? Does not a nice, — nay, does not a dull 
sense of justice, — forbid thus to press hard on those 
who already are so prompt to do so much ? — 
Let such questions have their consideration, my 
young friends. They deserve it. And whatever 
you discern to be the dictates of strict uprightness 
in respect to them, these folkrvv and you will walk 
securely. Resolve to give others all their due, and 
understand the length and breadth of that purpose, 
you will find that you have adopted a rule for which 
even your early years will furnish frequent appli- 
cation. 

II. A spirit of benevolent activity, in the second 
place, qualifies a man to fill his place well in society. 

In saying that this is a spirit by which the young 
should be animated, and which in them may find 
useful exercise, I am aware that I encounter an ob- 
jection. Beneficence, it will be said, when it ex- 
tends its action beyond that sphere w 7 here certain 
fixed relations of life define its duties, while it is 
one of the most indispensable, and well discharged 
one of the happiest, is also found to be often one of 
the most perplexing of our tasks. It requires expe- 
rience and discretion ; for the fact continually shows 
that we may do much harm, while we sincerely in- 
tend much good. The ardent feelings of youth and 



46 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 



its judgment generally formed on the side first pre- 
sented, do not afford the right direction in such in- 
tricacies ; and especially are they not to be trusted, 
as experience has sometimes proved, in projecting 
enterprizes of benevolence on a large scale ; since 
in proportion as the scale is large, the danger from 
imperfect acquaintance with the nature of the evil 
to be remedied, is increased, and the manner in 
which the agency employed will operate, is ren- 
dered difficult to predict. 

I am far from being insensible to the weight of 
this remark ; and, while the young too, it must be 
owned, have their judgment, which, if they be true 
to their duty in the practice of a proper circumspec- 
tion, will in most cases, which offer no peculiar diffi- 
culty, serve them well, I would be still as far as any 
one from recommending to the young to take coun- 
sel in this case, more than any other, of their first 
impressions, or be decided by the feelings which at- 
tended them, however generous these may seem to 
be. it ought to be urged upon them, that to do real 
good, it has pleased God should often cost us much 
consideration, and that to know how to do it vari- 
ously and extensively, is an attainment ; and by no 
means ought they to be encouraged to suppose, that, 
for a general rule, the province in which they will 
be likely most successfully to labor, is that of strik- 
ing out new paths of useful action, whether in poli- 
tics, religious charity, education or common life. 

1 . But such considerations, it seems to me, are 
somewhat aside from the subject. We would not 
indeed have them endeavor injudiciously to make 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 47 

themselves useful according to their ability, but we 
would not therefore have them forbear to make any 
endeavors to that end. The experienced discretion 
of their elders, and their impetuosity and heartiness, 
seem often to be precisely the elements of useful ac- 
tion which it is desirable to combine. In a commu- 
nity like this, not a few plans of benevolence, origi- 
nated by mature wisdom, have stood the proof of 
satisfactory experience ; and to carry these on to 
their best results, activity, and zeal, and that degree 
of leisure which domestic cares forbid, are often 
what is chiefly needed. They call upon the young 
as the best executive agents for many of their tasks ; 
and, engaging in them according to their opportuni- 
ties with a genuine public spirit, the young may often 
occupy posts of usefulness which no others could fill 
so well ; not to say that, when the discretion in such 
cases shall hereafter become theirs, the practical 
knowledge which they will thus have been acquiring 
will then stand them essentially in stead. There are, 
indeed, some very important things for the general 
good, which the young must do, or they will not be 
done. For an instance, I will mention the manage- 
ment of schools for religious instruction. To many, 
and among them I would myself be numbered, it 
appears that an altogether inestimable amount of 
good is doing in this way. We believe that there is 
no institution, which, in proportion as it is well con- 
ducted, promises fairer to raise the character of soci- 
ety, while it diffuses the blessings of religion. It is 
the young who must administer it, for with such a 
service by their elders more imperative domestic du- 



48 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

ties would commonly interfere ; and if the effects of 
this work be not greatly over-estimated, the young 
who have opportunity, talent and disposition for it, 
will prove to have been among the most important 
benefactors of men, and the most useful servants of 
God. 

2. Nor in the established relations of life, though 
the place of the young, indeed, cannot be maintained 
to be that of the highest responsibility, are they by 
any means left without the power of rendering es- 
sential services. The influence of the parent over 
the child gives to his agency, it must be owned, an 
importance entirely peculiar ; but still what a vast 
sum of happiness is a good son or daughter, brother 
or sister, made the happy instrument of imparting 
to kindred minds. How much may be done by them 
to whom a good providence prolongs the blessing of 
parental care, — how much may be done by them in 
innumerable ways which a willing spirit will help 
them to discover, to relieve the cares, and lighten 
the labors, and rejoice the hearts of those to whom 
they owe the best of all that they can do. What 
incessant acceptable tokens of good will are the 
spontaneous expressions of fraternal love. And 
such is the happy constitution of these relations that 
whatever service is rendered in their proper spirit is 
valued not for its usefulness alone, but doubly for 
the affectionate feelings of which it is the pledge. 

III. Men serve their generation by the exhibition 
of a good example ; and on the whole it may perhaps 
be said of the vast majority of good men that no other 
service which they render is of equal importance to 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 49 

this. The other agency of most good men is in 
great part limited to daily cares, and services to 
others on the scale of contracted means. Their ex- 
ample is the property and the blessing of all who 
know them. In other gifts they must needs econo- 
mise. Their example is a rich gift of united tem- 
poral and spiritual blessings, bestowed freely and 
entire on whoever will accept it. 

Can the young, my friends, do no good by the ex- 
hibition of a good example ? Who, let me ask, does 
so much mischief by a bad example as a wilful 
youth ? The bad influence of men's vices is in no 
small measure neutralized. The worst are known 
for what they are ; they are disreputable, and they 
are shunned. No one would think of imitating them, 
till he was so far sunk, that, in imitating them, he 
would not have much to lose. The wickedness of the 
young is not yet discovered ; or some show of better 
qualities, not yet extirpated, seems to redeem it ; or 
it is still hoped they will amend; and thus, not yet 
denounced nor disgraced, they have full opportunity 
to employ the influence of the standing which by 
sufferance they retain, to warp to evil, unsuspicious 
and undiscerning minds. Their ill example acts on 
those in whom neither principle nor habit can yet be 
presumed to be in all their strength; whose characters 
are pliant ; whose attachments are thoughtless and 
ardent ; whose perceptions are obscure ; and thus it 
comes to pass, as has been said, that, from the advan- 
tageous position which they hold, and the flexible 
material on which they act, the worst, that is the 

7 * 



50 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

most hurt ful examples which are set at all, are ex- 
amples of vicious youth. 

Is there no compensation for all this evil ? Has 
providence so disposed this influence of youth, that, 
misused, it will accomplish much injury, and well used 
will do little good ? No, my yoTmg friends : listen to 
no such libel on God's wisdom. Try the experiment, 
and you will assure yourselves that it is not so. Say 
from this time, 'my Father, thou art the guide of my 
youth,' and from this time you will find that you 
have begun to be benefactors, to an incalculable ex- 
tent, to those among whom you move. It is the 
young whose characters are forming and changing. 
Those of their elders are more fixed, and accord- 
ingly less in danger from ill influences, and less 
accessible to good. It is for the young, then, that 
the influences of good or bad example, as well as others, 
are most to be sought, and to be shunned. And exam- 
ple again has most power over the young. Experience 
puts us more on our guard against others' influence. 
One of the habits of mind which most surely it 
teaches, is that of a discrimination, which, separating 
between the different ingredients combined in a 
character, leaves us less exposed to be won by the dis- 
play of a few brilliant qualities. And years too are 
apt to teach us a pride in our own peculiarities, which 
indisposes us to relinquish them, for the sake of 
adopting the peculiarities of others. — The character 
of youth, then, being most subject to all influences, 
and also peculiarly susceptible of the influence of 
example, by whose example is it that the young are 
most likely to be swayed ? Doubtless by the ex- 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 51 

ample of the young. It is with their equals in age, 
that most of their time is passed. It is with their 
feelings that they most fully sympathize. It is in 
association with a youthful generosity and lightness 
of heart and fearlessness of evil, that whatever so- 
licitations, whether to good or ill, may address them, 
will assume their most attractive shape. My young 
friends, by every kind and manly feeling which you 
entertain towards your associates, be entreated to 
attend to this influence, and use it well. Do you 
wish them happy now, and do you wish that they 
may prosper in the world ? Reflect that it is in your 
power to give essential aid towards what is mainly 
needful to ensure that wish. Regard yourselves as 
delegated in this, — as in truth you are, — to a great 
office of benevolence. For every associate whom 
you can number, you have indeed a large power to 
mould to honor and usefulness another mind, and 
send joy along with it into another home. Do you 
but set the example of a strict purity, a rigid upright- 
ness, a steady diligence, and a disposition to all kind 
acts, and be assured, that, doing no more, you will 
be winning many to the same ways of pleasantness. 
But, this done, you will, if you are consistent with 
yourselves, desire to do yet more ; you will desire 
to set the example, not only of an outwardly blame- 
less, but of a Christian conduct. Nothing short of 
this is the limit of a truly noble youth's ambition. 
You will desire to make your heavenly father's will 
in all things the guide of your youth, that so you 
may be in all things faithful guides to those whom 
you would serve. Do this, myyoung friends ; let it 



52 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

be seen and known that jou cleanse jour way by 
taking heed thereto according to God's word ; let 
your life be a life of devotion, as well as of innocence, 
and of such usefulness as suits your age ; let it 
appear that the faith of Jesus supplies the spirit 
which animates, and the rule which directs you; 
throw the great weight of your influence over many 
forming minds into the scale of his religion ; give 
them cause to acknowledge that you are so excellent, 
that you have such a command over their reverence 
and love, because you have learned of him ; and well 
may it be asked, what ministry of benevolence there 
is, fulfilled by men or angels, on which your heavenly 
father will look down with a more profound compla- 
cency than on yours. 

The character of the young, my hearers, impor- 
tant, as we have described it, in all times and places, 
has in some respects a peculiar importance in this 
country and age. The improved forms of education, 
which have been generally introduced, have made 
the young capable of exerting an increased influence 
on the condition of society, and given them at the 
same time a better acquaintance with their power. 
The natural consequence is, that the sphere of their 
agency is enlarged, and what principles shall deter- 
mine its character is made a question of much addi- 
tional interest. Under our constitution of society, 
youth, as a preparatory season merely, is to be view- 
ed with a peculiar solicitude. Where every young 
man is soon to have a voice in public measures, ■ — 
a voice in determining questions which intimately 
affect the common welfare, — it deeply concerns 



DUTIES OF THE YOUN (J. 53 

the public whether he is in a course of preparation 
to acquit himself of that solemn trust corruptly, or 
heedlessly, or honestly. Besides, the demands of 
our community bring forward the young earlier than 
elsewhere on the stage of life, and cause more weighty 
trusts to be committed to their management. The 
periods of discipline and action are more blended, 
and thereby a more urgent necessity is created for 
using with a wise diligence the time of preparation. 
In the circumstances, there is no other safeguard 
against errors being committed on a large scale, and 
too probably such as cannot be retrieved. 

And as in our country there exist some peculiar 
reasons for addressing religious exhortation to the 
young, so in our portion of it, some peculiar encour- 
agements are presented. For a general remark, it 
is not too much to say, that an excellent spirit pre- 
vails among the youth of our city. Domestic, 
moral and religious instruction, is extensively an 
object of diligent and judicious attention. Compared 
with other places and earlier times, the moral stand- 
ard in our schools, much as we desire to see it higher, 
is already high. The young often carry from them 
a generous sense of character, and not seldom a 
disposition to devote themselves to the best objects 
of benevolence which can employ their age ; and 
to the honor of those, whose earliest impressions 
have been received elsewhere, it should be said that 
many of them bring hither, and retain and strengthen 
here, principles which make them examples now of 
what the youthful character should be, and well en- 
title them to those expressions of confidence and 



54 DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 

regard which a grateful community is waiting to 
bestow on their maturer age. Nay, since truth so 
encouraging ought all to be told, I will even say 
that this characteristic of the society, to which it is 
our happiness to belong, is strikingly exhibited where 
its test must be owned to be the strictest of all. 
It is our privilege to witness the very singular spec- 
tacle of the sons of the rich, the most tempted and 
exposed class of society, excepting only the children 
of the abjectly poor, not fulfilling here what, from the 
experience of other places, one would have some 
warrant for calling their all but universal destination ; 
not emulating each other in the extravagance of 
vice ; not wearing an expensive indolence or a 
giddy profligacy for badges of their rank ; not wasting 
their lives even in the less mischievous vanities for 
which they have leisure and means ; but cherishing 
a nice sense of character, entering on an equal com- 
petition with others in every worthy art, devoting 
themselves to honorable and useful occupations, not 
seldom rendering efficient aid of every kind to pub- 
lic objects, not seldom truly religious persons. So 
many are the instances, which more or less corres- 
pond to this description, in the class of the young re- 
ferred to, that one need not hesitate to say that a 
high tone of moral sentiment exists among them; — 
that, if I may elevate so vain a word to so serious a 
meaning, it is absolutely the fashion among them 
to be exemplary; so that, in our best society, to be 
notoriously profligate is not only to attract personal 
dishonor, but to profess profligacy, is to lose caste. 



DUTIES OF THE YOUNG. 55 

Examine where we will, we shall be but the more 
satisfied that this state of things is something like 
a distinctive trait, as I have said, of the society in 
which we live. For myself, 1 can truly say that 
there is no other feature of it which I contemplate 
with more delight ; nor, with a spirit like this in 
such general action, with such bright examples to 
recommend the character which youth should bear, 
and so much influence direct and indirect already 
exerted to diffuse it, can I see anything but strong 
encouragement for labors aiming at the improvement 
of this most- interesting age. 

Wilt thou not then, — let me address myself in 
one word more to every ingenuous youth who hears 
me, — wilt thou not then from this time cry unto God, 
my father, thou art the guide of my youth ? I say 
not, my friends, take the word of one who can wish 
you nothing but good, but take the uncontradicted 
testimony of all experience, that you will assuredly 
do this, if you but see clearly wherein your true 
honor and advantage lie. We know that you have 
interests of altogether unspeakable moment at stake, 
pertaining to your immortal nature ; and we are 
persuaded, that the sooner you make this resolution, 
the sooner those interests will be secure. We are 
aware how much harm you may do, how much un- 
relieved distress you are likely to suffer in the world, 
if the purpose that leads to other consequences be 
not formed betimes. We trust that many happy 
and useful years of earthly life await you ; and to 
the end that those years, few or many, may be 



56 DUTIES OFT HE YOUNG. 

useful, and honored and happy, we affectionately 
entreat you to form without delay the resolution of 
our text ; and we devoutly implore the father of 
mercies and God of all grace to give you at all 
times strength to keep it. Let this prayer be an- 
swered, and there is little else which a judicious 
affection would care to ask in your behalf. 



SERMON IV. 



DUTIES OF THE AGED 



PROVERB S XVI, 31 . 

THE HOARY HEAD IS A CROWN OF GLORY, IF IT BE FOUND IN THE WAY 

OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

While the wish for long life is almost universal, 
that old age to which lengthened years must bring 
us, is not commonly regarded as a happy part of 
life. We are apt to think of the old man as of one 
whose condition admits of few pleasures, and whose 
relish for those few is dull. His activity, we say, 
is crippled. Infirmities have crept upon him, and 
his spirits sympathise with the decay of his frame. 
His time of hope, the great quickener of the mind, 
is over, for his purposes have been all defeated, or 
fulfilled. Experience of life has taught him the un- 
happy habit of distrust. He has retired from the 
stage of action, and the world no longer cares for 
him. He has lost his friends, and has no longer 
occasion to care much about the world. 

Our text, however, speaks of a course in which 
old age becomes a most desirable attainment. The 
hoary head need not droop ; far otherwise ; — its 
8 



58 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

frosts are diamonds in a crown of glory, to be rea- 
sonably coveted, to be gratefully and proudly worn, 
if it but be found in the way of righteousness. Let 
us analyse this specific for a happy old age, that so 
the prescription may profit some of us even now, 
and others hereafter, whose days it may please prov- 
idence to prolong. 

The constituent parts of righteousness are purity, 
benevolence, and devotion. The hoary head, then, 
which is a crown of glory, is that of an innocent, 
useful, and devout old age. But under each of 
these divisions, again, is comprehended a variety of 
particulars, which we may do well successively to 
consider. 

I. The easiest and the most indispensable part of 
innocence in old age is, freedom from sins to which 
that period of life is either particularly adverse, or not 
particularly prone. Compared with other periods of 
the same constitution, old age is cold and quiescent. 
Years quench the fever of the blood. They indis- 
pose for the venturous struggles of ambition. The 
unsubstantial colors on ' the bubble reputation,' have 
less glitter to the eye over which their film is spread. 
— A restless aspiring after honors and notice in old 
age, betokens to every observer an incorrigibly light 
and undiscerning, as well as selfish mind. Its true 
dignity is seen to consist in retirement from the hot 
contest for dignities, which embroils men of greener 
years. — A libertine old age is, by universal consent, 
as odious as it is unnatural. The hoary profligate 
is owned to be no fit company for any one, except 
for those whom all others abandon. An instinctive 
horror is felt at his approach, and a perfect con- 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 59 

tempt follows him away. The young whom he 
would be thought to resemble, deride while they 
loathe him. From such lips impurity loses its pow- 
er to seduce, or even amuse, the weakest or the 
foulest. They only half smile at the loose jest, and 
they are utterly ashamed of the ribald ; and happily 
is it ordered that the naked deformity of his wick- 
edness, so far from tempting younger sinners to an 
imitation, unavoidably inspires in them a disgust, 
which with some minds will go as far as anything to 
lead to a reform. He is, and he is perceived to be, 
if not the most appalling, the most despicable exam- 
ple of one in whom moral corruption has disarmed 
all opposition, not only of the moral sense, but of 
influences of a lower nature ; insinuated itself 
through the whole soul ; tainted its deepest springs ; 
assumed an absolute possession ; spread an all- 
enclosing crust of leprosy. 

1. But we may pass from the consideration in 
this place, of sins so peculiarly offensive in advanc- 
ed life, because, seeming as they then do to all, un- 
natural, it is reasonable to infer that they are un- 
common, and because, if old age does not cure them, 
there is small likelihood that preaching will. Of 
the sins by which the period of age is understood 
to be most easily beset, the passion of avarice is 
one. Whether it be, that as objects of the desires 
of earlier life lose their attraction, money comes to 
claim for itself an engrossing regard ; or that as 
we find some of our powers of accumulating fail, 
it seems necessary to use more carefully those 
which remain to us ; or that a long experience of 



60 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

life, and observation of the various uses of wealth, 
tempts one to reckon it an eminently desirable pos- 
session ; or that as some other claims on the at- 
tention of dependants and of the community grow 
less, one is disposed to secure their good offices 
through that power of serving them which money 
gives ; or that, since the old, in the common 
course of things, have those around them whom 
they need to provide for, Providence, in the spirit 
of many other of its wise arrangements, has attach- 
ed a saving disposition to this period of life, a dis- 
position which, unregulated, will run into excess ; — 
whether it be from one or another, or all of these 
causes, certain it is, from all observation, that the 
undue love of money is a sin against which the aged 
need to be especially on their guard, in like manner 
as other moral dangers especially menace the other 
periods of life. 

It is not that the aged should refuse to prac- 
tice a careful economy. This is honorable in 
them, as it is honorable in all men, and it may 
be peculiarly honorable in them, as their occasions 
for it may be peculiar. It is not that they are to 
relinquish a course which they have marked out 
for themselves, because others may think it niggard- 
ly ; for the judgment which dictated it may be a 
sound and right one. But parsimony is a vice as 
capable of being understood as any other, and in 
young or old it is a great vice. It tempts, no doubt, 
often to acts of palpable injustice and oppression. 
Where it is not strong enough for this, it tampers 
with the conscience on those frequent occasions of 
the adjustment of mutual rights, where a pure, a 



DUTIESOFTHEAGED. 61 

lofty, and nicely discriminating conscience needs to 
judge. It makes a man unprofitable. Tt chills his 
sympathies. It trains him to be suspicious and art- 
ful. There is scarcely a worse foe, indeed, to the 
virtues which belong to man as a social being. Nor 
on his character as a religious being, does it threaten 
to exert an influence less fatal. The passion is es- 
sentially anti-spiritual, if such a word may be per- 
mitted. It is essentially discordant with the devout 
and heavenly affections. It strikes us as most mon- 
strous, because most singular in the young ; but on 
some accounts the wonder should rather be that the 
aged can be guilty of it. As they have less of life 
before them to make provision for, their inducement 
to hoard should seem less. That wealth is happi- 
ness, is an error which might be pardoned to ignorant 
youth ; but it is one which, if long experience have 
not corrected, it must needs be that that experience 
has been wasted on an undiscerning or a greatly per- 
verted mind ; and as far as it is happiness, or the 
price of happiness, that must be an obtuse under- 
standing, which, up to the period of age, has failed to 
discover that that quality is developed, not in its 
sequestration, but its use ; — its use in providing for 
the occasions of one's self or of others, — of the 
present, or the future. To do that self-tormenting 
work of supererogation, — to fill our minds on such 
an account with strong solicitudes, — to subject our 
comfort so utterly to the vicissitudes of that world 
of active men, which we are no longer near enough 
to watch, — to teach ourselves to be incredulous 
when we listen, and close when we pretend to com- 



62 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

municate, and subtle when we act, — what can afford 
less promise of a tranquil old age ? what more in 
consistent with its proper dignity? And, — afar 
more interesting consideration, — what more unsuit- 
able frame for the change which is approaching, than 
that of a mind occupied, agitated, indurated, fasten- 
ed to the earth by such cares ? 

2. Age needs to guard against the disposition to 
self-indulgence. 

I fear, my friends, that no small part of the 
self-denial which most of us practise, is forced on 
us by the power of circumstances. In youth, in- 
dolence and excessive attention to the conveniences 
of life are ill tolerated in us by those who have 
the control of our conduct ; and the cares which 
at the next succeeding period devolve on almost 
every man, keep him busy, and forbid a weak con- 
sideration of his ease. The aged are commonly 
their own masters, and no one has a right to call 
them in question for what they do. They have gen- 
erally the means of indulging their inclinations more 
at their command than others, and they are no lon- 
ger in the midst of engagements compelling them 
to exertion. Add to this that their infirmities seem 
to entitle them more than others to consider their 
convenience and ease, and that when life has been 
diligently passed, a season of repose seems to have 
been fairly earned. Here is a temptation to them. 
They are in danger of being led to dispense them- 
selves from active duties further than their diminish- 
ed strength requires ; and of them it is as true as of 
any others, that in proportion as they give themselves 
any such unnecessary dispensation, they remove 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 63 

themselves from their happiness as well as violate 
their obligations. Age is in danger of falling in too 
much with the solicitude which is shown, and ought 
to be shown, on the part of friends, to save it from 
all uneasiness, and provide for it all comforts. It is 
apt to think too much of its claim to such indulgen- 
ces ; to account them more necessary and more due 
than they are ; and so to become indolent, exacting 
and selfish. I shall not be misunderstood. I am 
not denying that age has a right to expect from 
youth the utmost consideration and tenderness for 
its condition and wishes and feelings. But that 
disinterestedness which is due on the one side, is 
not to be wholly abandoned on the other. The old 
are not to think only of themselves, because the 
young are bound to think much of them ; and cer- 
tain it is, that to see ourselves the object of much 
attention, extending to all the minor accommoda- 
tions of life, does tend, unless we guard well against 
the influence, to make us think ourselves and them 
of more importance than it is well we should. 

The disposition to self-indulgence which age is 
thus in danger of contracting, manifests itself 
sometimes in the morbid tastes of the epicure, and, 
in rarer instances, in a fond devotion to fashionable 
follies. In both these cases are recognised the 
symptoms of an enervated, unemployed, and unfur- 
nished mind. The latter, as most conspicuous to 
the world, attracts the most remark. The poet's 
saying, that ' age is unlovely,' is the remotest oppo- 
site of truth, when age invests itself with the proper 
ornaments of its proper sphere. If ever it is most 



64 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

unlovely, it is in that unhappy self-delusion, vvhenit 
attempts to mimic the appearance, the manners, 
and the discourse of youth. Its affectations of this 
sort give great pain to all judicious observers, and 
are too apt to be the ridicule of others of less sober 
mind. A decent gravity is the demeanor which 
adorns it. This becoming sign of self-respect is in- 
dispensable to attract to it the respect which is its 
due. The amusements to which age has recourse, 
we expect to find not of the lightest character. 
Doubtless it needs, and ought to have, its relaxa- 
tions. But it seems reasonable to expect them not 
to be the same, — however otherwise innocent, — 
which are demanded by the giddy spirits of unbal- 
anced youth ; and whatever sympathy under other 
circumstances, loud merriment excites, and whatever 
grace there may be in vain display, neither, in the 
aged, has any power but to sadden and repel. 

3. The aged are subject to a temptation to become 
opinionative, and dogmatical. 

They are right in believing that, other things being 
equal, when there is a difference of opinion between 
them and younger persons, the presumption is that the 
right is on their side. 'I said, days should speak, and 
multitude of years should teach wisdom,' was a rea- 
sonable resolution of Elihu. Experience is one of the 
surest avenues to truth, and men in all ages have rev- 
erently listened as to oracles, to them before whom 
life in its various aspects had been displayed, and who 
had had opportunity to gather wisdom themselves 
from many minds, to test it in many trials, and mature 
it by long continued thought. The aged feel that ex- 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 65 

perience has been to them a large source of knowl- 
edge. They remember that it has often altered views 
to which at some time they had adhered most firmly, 
and they are quite sure that it will alter views which 
now they find others holding. This naturally makes 
them confident in their judgments, and tempts 
them to hold in too undiscriminating a disrespect the 
judgments of others who have not had the same 
advantage. The effect is increased by the defer- 
ence they are in the habit of receiving. They are 
accustomed to be applied to for counsel, and they 
are accustomed to have the expression of their sen- 
timents received as conclusive. In fact, this latter 
seems to them to be the case oftener than it is ; for 
those around them without doubt are frequently 
content to appear for various reasons more acquies- 
cent than they are, and often the aged think that 
they have changed another's opinions, or settled his 
doubts, when they have only escaped a contradiction. 
The respect which their opinions command, natu- 
rally tends, as has been remarked, to increase their 
confidence in their judgments; and it is not surpris- 
ing if they should thus be sometimes led to adhere 
to their opinions with an undue pertinacity, and even 
to enforce them with an ungraceful and impatient 
positiveness. On all accounts this deserves their 
care, to avoid. Modesty, and candor, and a dis- 
position to give all sentiments, as well as all per- 
sons, their due, — these, though the old are not to 
be reminded of it by the young, are becoming qual- 
ities in all ages. Wisdom is calm, and self-distrust- 
ful, and gentle, and considerate; and knowing the 

9 



66 DUTIES OF THE AGED- 

worth of reasons to itself, will not wish to impose 
its dictates on others on any feebler grounds. Be 
the opinion in question truth, an authoritative manner 
will not prove nor even enforce it. We are readiest 
to attend to the arguments of him whom we see 
readiest to attend to ours. Bigoted assertion tends 
to nothing more surely than to beget bigoted opposi- 
tion in another mind. When we see in the aged the 
gentleness and 'meekness of wisdom,' then we feel a 
confidence that we may look to them for the sound- 
ness of wisdom too. When we see that years have 
wrought one effect upon them, we are then satisfied 
that they have wrought the other. And thus, taking 
it for granted that age is in the right, a patient and 
temperate assertion of the right, is what becomes it, 
and will serve it, best. But though youth should be 
ready to allow this, it is not to be absolutely taken for 
granted by age that it is in the right. The presump- 
tion, as has been said, is on its side, but no more. The 
advantage of experience is what gives age the better 
claim to the praise of wisdom. But he is not always 
most experienced who is oldest. Experience is not 
merely given by years ; it is to be gathered by care ; 
and of two men, he will often have the most of its 
instructions, who has had the least of its discipline. 
The respective advantages and disposition for becom- 
ing acquainted with a given subject, as well as the 
length of time that one has lived in the world, are 
to be taken into view in determining the probability 
whether one or another is best acquainted with it. 
It may even well happen that the opinion which 
claims to be announced on the authority of experi- 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 67 

nice, had been taken up at an early period of life, 
when its advocate was much less experienced than 
he is now who dissents from it, and had been main- 
tained since only from habit, and without examina- 
tion. In such cases, the claim of ampler experience 
is evidently not to be urged by age. And in all cases 
it is rather one for youth respectfully to acknowledge, 
than forage arrogantly to assert. 

4 It is an old remark that age is subject to some 
faults of temper. We hear of querulous old age ; 
of discontented old age ; of the gloom and impa- 
tience and jealousy of age. 

The complaint is very likely to be made where 
there is no ground for it ; and, where there is ground 
for it, to make it, is, in the domestic circle, a very un- 
dutiful act, and a very uncharitable act in any one. 
But on the other hand, age is certainly not so privi- 
leged above the other periods of life, as not to be com- 
passed with its own peculiar dangers ; and its wisdom 
and honor lie, not in denying their existence, but in 
perceiving and guarding against them. When that 
vigorous health, which of itself, is enough for cheerful- 
ness, has departed, and those hitherto nameless in- 
firmities are coming on, which, more developed, will 
be different forms of the decay of nature ; when those 
great avenues of knowledge, the sight and hearing, 
are becoming obstructed ; when many objects of for- 
mer interest are disposed of, and many objects of for- 
mer attachment removed, who has a right to wonder 
that the serenity of even a good mind should be some- 
times clouded, and its even balance shaken ? Were it 
only to lose, as one must in the revolution of years, 



68 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

the place of influence which was held in the busy 
world ; were it only to resign, as younger actors come 
upon the scene, the tokens of interest to which one 
has been accustomed ; even this, with all else to 
make amends for it, would be a trial equal to 
the resources of a strong mind, as well as a christian 
sense of duty. 

But, while there are excuses for the aged for some 
failures in the exercise of a happy and gentle spirit, 
they are excuses to be made by others for them, 
and not for stress to be laid upon by themselves. If 
the temptation is strong, the greater is the merit of 
resisting it ; and age is as much bound to watch and 
pray against the sins of an irritable mind, as youth 
is against the sins of levity. We cannot demand 
of age the exuberant gladness of an earlier period 
of life ; nor could this be proved even to be, in the 
abstract, the most reasonable or desirable mood of 
mind. A serious view of things, and a calm satis- 
faction in them, become it better. But to suffer 
one's-self to be dejected because one is no longer 
young, is to repine that one has been permitted to 
live long; — that is, has been permitted to enjoy, 
what the great majority are not, the pleasures of 
youth and of age besides. To show impatience 
under the infirmities which attend on age, is alike an 
ill return for the goodness which has deferred them 
so long, and an ill omen for the continuance of the 
sympathy and good offices w T hich would help us to sus- 
tain them. To frown on those innocent enjoyments 
of the young, which we cannot or do not wish to 
share, is a most ungracious act. It is unjust to 
grudge to others in their turn what has been ours ; 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 69 

and if we think we have much to bear, a benevolent 
interest in others' pleasures, will go far to help us 
bear it. A censorious judgment of the young is 
unwise as well as unkind. While the aged are 
doubtless liable to be charged with this fault with- 
out reason, they are not to forget habitually to 
qualify their judgments, by considering that they 
may be looking at the question with partial eyes, 
and that what now they condemn, they once, 
perhaps with better reason, approved ; that what 
was wrong in their earlier years, may now perhaps, 
in a change of circumstances, have become right; 
or that, at all events, something, within reasonable 
limits, is to be indulged to youth, and that what has 
not approved itself to their judgment, may at the 
very worst, be almost indifferent, and deserve to be tol- 
erated, if it do not deserve to be chosen. A worse 
fault is, a suspicion of the affection of friends ; a jeal- 
ousy that their interest in us is worn out ; that 
we have lived as long as they desire. The sus- 
picion is not likely to be well founded in relation 
to any aged person whose interest in others has 
been kept alive, for that interest will express it- 
self in a thousand ways calculated to attach and en- 
dear. If it be not well founded, to harbor it is one 
of the crudest of wrongs, and one of the surest 
ways withal to bring about what we dread; for 
the expression of such a jealousy is offensive and 
estranging, and its indulgence will cool that cordi- 
ality on the one part which is so needful to maintain 
affection on the other. And even if it were well 
founded, to conceal it, — to stifle it, if possible, — 



70 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

is the way for us to take, if we would avert, if 
we would not make the worst of an evil. Nothing 
more surely defeats its end, than complaints of fail- 
ure in affection. If we are not beloved, the best 
way to make ourselves so is to become more amiable, 
which suspicions, and still more the expression of 
them, prevent us from becoming. — This jealous 
spirit has reached its height, when it leads the aged 
to suspect whoever approaches them of having some 
artful design to compass. It is then a source of 
perpetual distress. What may well be dreaded, it 
gains strength continually, as, retiring further from 
the scene of action, one is sensible of being more 
exposed to be imposed on by whosoever has that 
design in view ; till at length, all confidence in others, 
and with it, all the peace of one's own mind is gone. 
That is a heavy retribution which comes on any who 
regard others as unfit to be trusted. And a frank, 
generous spirit, a spirit which, conscious of honorable 
purposes and of promptness to kind sentiments, gives 
others credit for what it finds in itself, this, on the 
other hand, never fails to share largely in the happi- 
ness which it widely imparts. 

I hope for some future opportunity to take up the 
other parts of the subject. Meantime, let the sug- 
gestions which have been made be respectfully com- 
mended to the consideration of the aged. Let those 
of us who, before age has come, find any of the 
faults that have been enumerated, stealing on us, 
take a warning to check them while we may, lest in 
our age they be found fixed and inveterate. And 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 71 

let not a word which has been spoken be so misinter- 
preted, as to impair in any degree the respect which 
under the most solemn obligations we all owe to our 
elders. 1 have spoken only of temptations to 
which the aged are exposed, as the young and the 
mature are exposed to others, certainly not less dan- 
gerous ; temptations which, in many bright instances, 
are resisted, one may say, with a perfect success. 
I have spoken of faults, most of which, if, through 
the infirmity of nature, they are not wholly escap- 
ed, deserve to be viewed with a generous allowance ; 
and which, considered as they are to be peculiarly in- 
cident to the aged as a class, are of course liable to 
be imputed to them in individual instances, where 
they can be imputed with no degree of justice. Age 
is not sinless nor secure, more than any other 
period of life. It has its precautions to take for it- 
self, and its accountability to God. But we should 
be making a most perverse use of a consideration of 
its spiritual dangers, if we were to suffer ourselves in 
any degree to lose sight of that dictate of natural 
conscience and of revealed religion, which bids us 
1 rise up before the hoary head, and honor the face of 
the old man.' 



SERMON V . 



DUTIES OF THE AGED 



PROVERBS XVI, 31. 

THE HOARY HEAD IS A CROWN OF GLORY, IF IT BE FOUND IN THE WAY 

OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. 

In introducing, on the last Lord's day, some re- 
marks on the subject suggested by these words, we 
observed that since the constituent parts of right- 
eousness are purity, benevolence, and devotion, the 
hoary head which is called a crown of glory must of 
course be that of an innocent, useful and devout old 
age. Under each of these divisions again, it was 
said, is comprehended a variety of particulars ; and 
in enumerating some of those which fall under the 
first, we were led to speak somewhat largely of mor- 
al dangers against which age needs to guard. 

II. Active usefulness in old age is a second requi- 
site to invest it with a crown of glory. 

1 . I am not denying what has been before allowed, 
that age is designated by nature for a season of 
comparative retirement. The infirmities, greater or 
less, by which in the common course of things, it is 
beset, compel it in a manner, to withdraw from the 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 73 

busiest scenes, and so secure to it an opportunity to 
rest and compose itself after the struggles through 
which it has been passing. But it does not follow 
from this that in age, more than at any other 
period of life, we are to dispense ourselves from 
duties which we are in a capacity well to discharge. 
Long continued inaction is not rest, — unprofitable- 
ness is not pleasure, — as many who have made the 
mistake, to their cost have on trial found. No doubt 
it is reasonable, that, beyond even what our failing 
strength requires, we should, as age comes on, en- 
deavor to detach ourselves from worldly cares and 
interests, particularly those of a perplexing and agi- 
tating nature, that we may bring freer and calmer 
minds to contemplations on the state we are approach- 
ing. But it is an unsafe experiment for any one, to 
abandon without necessity all active labors, for the 
sake of taking his ease, as it is expressed, for the 
rest of life. Ease is not to be so taken. One may 
abridge his engagements ; and this, for the reasons, 
and with the limitations which have been mentioned, 
is well. He may change them, and this is better. 
For instance, he may retire from the mart, or the sen- 
ate, to the farm. He may give more time than he has 
been wont, to labors of neighborly good will, and of 
public spirit, to the general culture of his mind, 
to religious studies, and to devotion. But of all 
plans of life, for young or old, to take one's ease will 
be found the most uneasy. The mind will wear on 
itself. The time will be a heavy burden. A hurtful 
violence will be found to be done to the previous 
habits of life. And this seems to be the intimation 
10 



74 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

which providence gives to the aged, that they, 
no more than the young, have a right to do nothing. 
If they can find better occupations than have hitherto 
engaged them, or occupations more suitable to their 
years, let them transfer their attention to these. If 
they need to favor their decaying strength by under- 
taking less than heretofore of any kind of service, 
this too let them feel at liberty to do. But what has 
made the business of their lives, it is to be presumed, 
has been something useful ; and from this, for oth- 
ers' sake and for their own, they ought not to with- 
draw themselves, unless so far as physical infirmity 
demands, or unless, in a greater privacy and quiet, 
they find something more useful, under all the cir- 
cumstances, to take the place of what has been re- 
linquished. 

2. Age has some important advantages, beyond 
the other seasons of life, for extensive labors of 
usefulness, distinct from the tasks of any particular 
sphere or occupation. Arrived at that period, men 
have generally, according to their several conditions, 
more of the means of being benevolent than at any 
previous term of life. And what is of still greater 
consequence, they have more time to command for 
this object. Being less pressed with personal cares, 
whether those of preparation, as in youth, or of 
business, as in the period which follows, they have 
more leisure for others' service. And their expe- 
rience has taught them how their more abundant 
time and means are most effectually to be employed 
in advancing others' welfare. 

3. There are services of a most important class, 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 75 

which age is singularly qualified to render ; — to com- 
municate the results of its long observation in in- 
structions to the young ; to impart its practised 
wisdom in seasonable counsel ; to recommend vir- 
tue by its revered example. Who can entitle him- 
self to a benefactor's name by more substantial 
kindnesses than these ? Who so competent as the 
old to render some of them ? Who so sure to find 
the attempt to render them fitly estimated, and cor- 
dially seconded on the other part ? Let no one 
venture to call himself useless as long as he can re- 
member, and judge, and speak, though there should 
be nothing else that he can do. So long he may be 
most useful, for so long he can bear a testimony, 
which from him will be impressive, to the worth of 
christian goodness, and point out to younger trav- 
ellers its path of peace. Nay, so long as in those 
days which are called days of labor and sorrow, he 
is able to show the power of the religion of Jesus, 
to help him to suffer with serenity, so long he may 
be doing a service to those around him, more pre- 
cious than man can estimate. And let none be in- 
sensible to the responsibilities which this age thus 
imposes on them. With the reverence which at- 
taches to it, its discourse and its example must needs 
have a vast influence, whether for good or evil. Are 
the stores of its guilty experience exposed, to clothe 
vice in new attractions, or teach to less practised 
cunning, new deceits ? The worst work of depravity 
is then done while the sinner is drawing nearest to 
his doom. Is it employed to the last in winning 
souls to truth and heaven, by the rich lessons of its 



76 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

wisdom, and the beautiful attraction of its virtues ? 
There is scarcely an earthly ministry of benevolence 
so powerful, or so deserving of all hearty gratitude. 

4. In the intimate relations of life, age fills a 
place which with the proper dispositions, and good 
judgment, becomes one of distinguished usefulness. 
Through the domestic ties, it has often authority over 
young persons, which, disinterestedly and discreetly 
exercised, is a mighty agent of good. Wisely and 
generously to exercise it, is a great concern, and 
deserves to be an object of earnest desire and en- 
deavor. The young should be made to see, if it 
may be, that their elders, above any narrow views of 
their own, have really their good at heart ; and then, 
over any ingenuous mind, their influence is immense, 
Does it belong to the aged to determine the condi- 
tion as to worldly fortune, of the young who are 
their charge ? Here is an opportunity of usefulness 
demanding much consideration as to the manner in 
which it may be best employed. To give them 
what in their hands will be the means of expensive 
vice, will be doing them one of the worst of inju- 
ries ; while on the other hand, to keep them depen- 
dant and straitened for the purpose of retaining a 
despotic control over their conduct, will be doing 
them almost the next worst. For, by preventing 
them from learning betimes to act on a responsibility 
of their own, it will incapacitate them to act their 
part when in the course of nature they become 
their own masters, and will, too probably, break them 
down to a timid, servile, and sordid spirit. 

These latter considerations however are of a class 



DUTIES OP THE AGED. 77 

belonging rather to the subject of the duties of pa- 
rents, of which 1 may find some other opportunity 
to speak. 1 close this part of the subject now be- 
fore us, with merely suggesting the absolute impor- 
tance to the aged, if they would be faithful to the 
duties to which it relates, of guarding against such 
influences as growing years exert, to deaden their 
sensibility to others' wants and feelings. Undoubt- 
edly there is danger that much experience of the 
deceits of the world, will steel the heart; that much 
endurance of varied trial will make it callous and 
unsensitive. But if this danger be escaped, if the 
unabated tenderness of youth be joined to the tried 
and formed discretion of age, and if life and gui- 
dance be given to both by that spirit of the gospel, 
w T hich is the spirit of power, and of a sound mind, 
then there is witnessed an eminent example of a 
benefactor and honor to his associates, and to his 
race. 

III. And this brings us to remark, in the third 
place, on that piety in the aged, which was named 
as another of the gems that need to be found in its 
crown of glory. 

1 . An undevout old age is a most painful spectacle. 
At any period of life, indeed, the want of a devo- 
tional spirit is the most serious want of all, and one 
for which nothing can atone. But when we have 
to lament its absence in the young, we encourage 
ourselves that growing years, as they correct the 
volatility of that heedless age, will find a remedy 
for the great defect ; and when busy life is ' careful 
and troubled about many things,' to the neglect of 



78 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

what alone is strictly needful, though we cannot 
defend nor excuse the fault, we still cling to the 
hope that a time of greater leisure, and of a deeper 
sense of dependence, will be a time of more reflec- 
tion. But when age comes and brings no better 
symptoms, then we begin to despond. Then we 
begin to be greatly apprehensive that the abused soul 
is going to cling to its idols to the last. When all 
the varied discipline of life has yet had no sanctify- 
ing efficacy, we tremble as we think on the strong 
probability that the doom of that soul is sealing. 
— In the warm, natural feelings of youth, and its 
lightness of heart, there is something to engage us, 
even though it be wanting in that first of beauties, 
the beauty of holiness ; and the energy of manhood 
has a power over the mind, even if a christian spirit 
do not regulate it to the degree that it ought. But, 
wanting that spirit, age wants all. Nothing can 
compensate the defect. Even though it be charge- 
able with no open vice, even though it should be 
praised for generous dispositions, still we miss 
the appropriate grace of that thoughtful period. 
We cannot understand how any mind, especially if 
it appear constitutionally accessible to generous sen- 
timents, can be proof against those emotions which 
a long experience of God's mercy should excite, un- 
less it be fortified by depraving principles or invet- 
erate bad habits. We cannot comprehend how any 
elements of goodness can there exist, where, when 
the time of serious thought has come, God is not in 
all the thoughts. — Wanting trust in God, we are 
sure that age wants its only competent support. 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 79 

Wanting this, whatever else it may have, we are 
sure that age must be unhappy. What to an irre- 
ligious mind made life attractive in earlier years, is 
gone ; or, which is the same, the relish for it is no 
longer felt. What is past, has been experienced to 
be unsatisfactory ; to the present, belong infirmities 
and solitude, and the future holds out no happy 
prospect. Most wretched lot, which man that is born 
to trouble knows, that of a feeble and lonely old 
age, which the testimony of a good conscience, and 
the hopes of the Gospel do not cheer. 

2. As we look for a pious spirit as the indispensa- 
ble support and grace of age, so that period of life 
abounds with peculiar privileges for its culture. 
Before the view of the aged, life has been presented 
in a great diversity of aspects, and, in every new as- 
pect, it has presented to their minds, with a new 
impression, the truth that the providence of a wise 
and good being governs in the world, and that to do 
his will is the one great interest of man, his one 
sure way to genuine and lasting enjoyment. The 
retrospect which they may take is full of bright rev- 
elations to them of the perfections of his character; 
of the equity and benevolence of his government; 
of the excellence of his service. They reckon up 
precious and accumulated tokens of his parental 
goodness to themselves, kindling a deep, warm grat- 
itude in their hearts. They have learned to number 
even their griefs among their blessings, explaining 
and vindicating to them, as the event of after years 
has often done, what had seemed for the time the 
darkest ways of providence. And in such reflec- 



80 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

tions, what was always matter of strong faith to 
them, has become rather matter of reality and 
knowledge, — that the Lord is indeed gracious and 
of tender mercy, and all his ways are righteousness 
and love. 

That composed state of the mind, which it is 
reasonable to expect will be attained to an increased 
extent when the early ferment of the feelings has 
subsided, and the agitating cares of the world no 
longer press, greatly favors the growth of a perva- 
ding and vital piety. Age can look on all things 
with a cool, a just, and wise observation ; and the 
view of true wisdom is always the view of religion ; 
and as the chances of life have perforce inured it to 
disappointment and restraint in some forms, and the 
passions and impulses have, by a law of nature, lost 
much of their headlong force, the work of self-dis- 
cipline has been made of easier execution, and a 
subdued and serene temper, akin to the temper of 
devotion, has been diffused over the soul. Age, 
again, has more ample leisure, for those retired ex- 
ercises to which a devotional spirit prompts ; and 
herein it has a privilege w T hich the pious mind will 
hold in peculiar estimation. In the more occupied 
period of earlier life we could not praise a man, who 
should withdraw much time, day by day, from the 
duties of his worldly calling, to be given to the sol- 
itary exercises of religious study, meditation, and 
prayer. He must learn to turn his opportunities of 
this kind to the best account, because he cannot 
have them in such abundance as he would wish. The 
aged have the happiness of not being so restricted. 



DUTIES OF Til E A CJ E D . 81 

They have more free access to enjoyments of the 
highest and purest character that can belong to man. 
They have leisure for investigations in that science 
of profoundest interest, of which God's word is the 
expositor. They have tranquil hours in which they 
can look into the mysteries, and chide the wander- 
ings, and nourish the good affections, of their own 
hearts. The world has no longer such demands on 
them but that they may often go aside to solitary 
converse with their best friend ; to communion 
with him whose friendship has become continually 
more needful to them, on whose love they know 
they are soon to be thrown without even the vain ap- 
pearance of any other resource, and to whose nearer 
society they have an humble hope then to be re- 
ceived. That age does afford such rich opportuni- 
ties of this nature, is to be to them a leading occasion 
of gratitude that they have been brought to see 
that time ; and to profit by those opportunities to 
the full extent of their great worth, should be re- 
alized by them to be a chief part of the peculiar re- 
sponsibility which age imposes. 

Do not all our hearts, my friends, respond to the 
declaration that the hoary head, thus found in the 
way of righteousness, is entitled to be called a 
crown of glory ? Among all earthly objects of ven- 
eration what is there, so venerable as the aged 
saint ? With what confidence do we listen to the 
counsels of his wisdom ! With what pleasure do 
we find ourselves attracting his regard ! With what 
reverence do we contemplate his established virtues ! 
With what admiring satisfaction do we watch the 

11 



82 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

noble bark, which having outlived so many storms, 
is sailing calm and stately into the haven of its rest! 
If we might envy any one, who would it be, if not 
the aged Christian ? It was said of old, that none 
could be safely called happy before his death ; 
but does it not seem enough to say, that no one 
should be called happy till he had arrived at a relig- 
ious old age? For such an one, the remnant of life, 
though it should be compassed with many infirmities, 
is a period oftranquil and satisfying, because inborn, 
pleasures. He has no longer oppressive cares to 
distract him ; the objects oi his ambition have been 
attained or abandoned. He has no longer immoder- 
ate desires to feed or tame ; his mind is a well or- 
dered dwelling of the good affections ; its better 
powers have established their rightful empire, and 
maintain there a perfect peace. Enemies, he no 
longer makes nor keeps. He has done with conflict 
of every kind ; and any who may once have wronged 
him in their thoughts, if they have survived to 
witness the christian consistency of his life, have 
learned to understand and estimate him better. The 
testimony of his conscience to the godly sincerity 
of the course which he is finishing, speaks a deep 
peace, a holy joy, to his spirit. The bliss he 
is approaching is disclosed with a continually grow- 
ing brightness to his view. He goes down the steps 
of his declining years, upheld and cheered by the 
tenderest assiduities of those whom he has caused 
well to know how they ought to honor and to prize 
him ; and when at length he is gathered to his fath- 
ers, like a shock of corn fully ripe for the harvest, 
the memory he leaves behind is still a blessing and 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 83 

a power, and the painful sense what a precious boon 
has been withdrawn is subdued by the conviction 
that no unworthy associate has been added to the 
company of the just made perfect. 

May such be the age of any whom I address, 
whom providence has spared to see that time ! Truly, 
greatly happy are they, if that wish be accom- 
plished in them. May such an age await others of 
us, my friends, if he who appointeth man's bounds, 
should be pleased thus to prolong our days ! But to 
wish for it, is not all that we have to do. Should 
long life be our lot, we have small reason to hope for 
a christian and happy old age, if we are not even 
now industriously engaged in preparation for it. 
Repentance may come, in old age, to the sinner, 
and while it brings with it bitter, bitter regrets, 
bring after it some portion of peace. But we are 
not now speaking of possibilities. We are speaking 
of what, according to all reasonable calculation, is 
to be expected to take place. We are speaking of 
what is just as much to be depended on as the truth 
of the maxim, that ' whatsoever a man soweth, that 
shall he also reap.' As to its temporal and its spir- 
itual resources, the condition of age awaits the dis- 
posals of earlier life. If we will be prodigals and 
spendthrifts in youth, we must lay our account with 
wanting what we have wasted, when age shall come 
to demand its comforts. If we have dissipated our 
strength in what we have been pleased softly to 
term youthful follies, we are not to demand of age 
to repair the shattered frame, and restore a healthful 
tone to the wasted spirits, and the decrepid mind. 



84 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

If we have forfeited our good name, we may look 
to miss it when we grow old. If we have neglected 
to inform our minds, their vacancy, when we shall 
especially need to find rich resources in them, will 
be a disturbance and a distress. If we have failed 
to place betimes a curb upon ill-temper, it will grow 
continually more unmanageable, and the retribution 
will be, that that with which we have tormented 
others, will be a tenfold torment to ourselves. Have 
we given bad counsel or instruction, or set a bad 
example, or failed to furnish those of a different 
character ? We shall be liable to suffer largely by 
the misconduct we have caused. Have we, among 
our many cares, neglected parental duties ? We 
may chance then to find our children our worst 
curse, when we shall have urgent need to find them 
a great blessing. Are we not manifestly chargeable 
with anything of all this ? Still, if we have neg- 
lected to cherish with much care the distinctive 
temper of the disciples of Jesus, the main re- 
source of age will yet be wanting to us, and We 
shall be made to feel its absence severely. Our re- 
collections then, if conscience be awakened, will give 
us distressing pain ; for the memory of a merely 
undevout life, — though its deficiencies had gone no 
further, which, however, is an impossible supposi- 
tion, — the memory of an undevout life stings an 
awakened conscience to the quick. The present 
will then be all dark, and empty, and cheerless to 
us. God is everything to the good man ; supply- 
ing all the wants of his spirit, and of his lot. But 
not to have made him our friend in age, is to be 



DUTIES OF THE AGED. 85 

alone, — utterly, miserably alone, — in a waste world. 
And if this be the aspect of the present and of the 
past to an irreligious age, what is to be said of the 
future ? Of the future we cannot fail, arrived 
at that period, to think, — however, in gayer 
years, we may have foolishly put by the thought. 
We see our decline. The warnings of nature are 
successively uttered to us. The growing genera- 
tions crowd us on to the steep brink of that narrow 
house which we must next make our dwelling. 
What is our condition, what must our feelings be, 
if the light of immortality which Jesus carried into 
its dreary chambers, has not brightened on our 
view ? * Without hope, and without God in the 
world.' How just and real, how established in 
the nature of things, but how awful, is the connex- 
ion set forth in those words of the apostle ! With- 
out the knowledge of God there is nothing but de- 
spair. To be without a happy hope of what lies 
beyond the grave, — what a condition for any one ! 
But for one whose hours of earthly hope are fleeting 
as fast as the few remaining sands of a protracted 
age can fall, how pitiable, how appalling a con- 
dition ! 

My brethren, let us take no such hazards. Let 
us brave no such woe. Let a true, that is, a season- 
able prospective wisdom, be ours. Have we any 
doubt what will make us happy in age, and what 
that is, without which we must unavoidably be 
wretched, if it should please God that we live to see 
that time ? Have we any doubt that it is the same 
acquisition, which if we do not live to see it, will 



86 DUTIES OF THE AGED. 

make a shorter life, and an earlier death, both hap- 
py ? On all accounts then let us be even now in- 
tent on that attainment, — on securing that better 
part which never, in strong or declining years, in 
life or death, never can be taken from us, nor any 
of the blessedness it brings. Let us be thoughtful 
for the future. Every moment brings it nearer ; 
why would we forget it ? — Would we by and by 
have access to stores of happy recollection ? We 
must be now amassing them. Would we be rich 
by and by in the communications of the divine love? 
We must, so to speak, be even now conciliating it. 
Would we, when we are old, have our souls filled 
and quickened with joyful prospects ? The accred- 
ited heirs of the promises are the pure in heart, the 
patient in duty, the trusting in God. My friends, 
are we omitting anything which we ought to do ? 
Let the omission be without delay supplied ; for, if 
age should give opportunity to repair the fault, it 
will weigh heavily on our spirits when it comes up 
before the memory of age. Are we doing anything 
for God and duty ? Let us take heart, and do more 
and more ; for, persevering and abounding in this 
service, — we shall be wearing, a few years hence, 
either the crown of glory with which a righteous 
age clothes the erect though humble brow, or else 
that crown which blessed spirits wear, in their place 
of rest, in the pomp of their Saviour's triumph, in 
the more fully manifested presence of their God. 



SERMON VI. 



DUTIES OF T H E AFFLI C TED 



1 THESSALON1ANS IV. 13. 

THAT YE SORROW NOT, EVEN AS OTHERS, "WHICH HAVE NO HOPE. 

The afflicted are not commonly addressed on the 
subject of their duties. We find ourselves disposed 
rather to sympathise with, than to exhort them. 
Grief is privileged, and we presume not to approach 
it, except with tenderness and respect. It is already 
bowed down. If we could, we would relieve it of the 
burdens which it bears ; we would not lay other bur- 
dens upon it. 

But, my hearers, the thought of duties which it 
owes, is not to a good mind a burdensome thought, 
nor is the recommendation of them felt by such a 
mind to be an unkindness. A true sympathy dic- 
tates a regard to the best good, the religious good, 
of the objects of its concern ; and, as far as it can 
excite them to a conduct becoming their condition, 
it is assured that it will at the same time lighten 
their grief. The afflicted have their duties, and 
these demanding only the more to be considered, 
on account of the allowances which they are tempt- 



88 DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

ed to make for themselves, and the indulgence with 
which any weakness of theirs is naturally regarded 
by others. To a brief suggestion of some of these 
let our attention now be given. They make a sub- 
ject in which none of us, however now circumstanc- 
ed, can possibly fail, sooner or later, to have a per- 
sonal concern ; and a subject which, whenever that 
time shall come, we shall find great occasion to wish 
that we had considered beforehand. 

I. The obligation to preserve moderation in sor- 
row may be first named. 

We are not taught that we must not grieve. If 
it be right to prize the blessings which God gives, 
it cannot be wrong to be pained when he recalls 
them. We are not prohibited from a strong grief. 
Jesus, our master and example, wept. But what is 
enjoined on us to avoid is, a sorrow such as those 
indulge who are without hope ; that is, a despair- 
ing, an abandoned sorrow. Moderation, indeed, is a 
somewhat indefinite word. Its requisitions vary 
with different circumstances, so that what is moder- 
ation in one case, would be excess and extravagance 
in another. But we sufficiently well understand 
that immoderate feelings are such as exceed the 
bounds, which, in the given case, reason and sense 
of duty, in a fair consideration of their dictates, pre- 
scribe ; and we shall not in practice be often wrong 
in deciding where this censure ought to attach. In 
fact, there will not be presented occasion for nice 
distinctions in the exercise of that judgment ; for the 
extravagance which will not keep due limits, will, 
of its nature, go on to overstep them far and mani- 
festly. 



DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED 



89 



We are evidently depressed to an inordinate de- 
gree, if we suffer any minor evils to bring an habit- 
ual gloom over our spirits, and distrust over our 
views of life. There are those, it may be feared, 
to whom any undesirable occurrence, though itself 
of no considerable moment, is a sort of signal for 
all painful thoughts to throng into the mind. What 
they have endured, they permit to color their view of 
every object. What existed just as much before as 
now, and was just as real an evil, but one which 
they either saw to be trifling, or had trained them- 
selves to account tolerable, appears, under the new 
influence which has been exerted, in quite another as- 
pect. But lately they were contented; but some single 
cause of dissatisfaction has arisen, and in the altered 
hue, which, instead of contemplating it and disposing 
of it alone, they have suffered it to give to their spir- 
its, they have proceeded to call up all painful subjects 
of reflection accessible to their imaginations; and their 
minds are filled with darkness. 

This is a very reprehensible as well as unfortunate 
habit of mind. Sufficient for the resources as well as 
the endurance of the day is the evil thereof ; and to 
call up other troubles because there is one with which 
we must needs contend, is no act of christian pru- 
dence. But our attention is rather due to those, on 
whom has fallen the blow of some real adversity. 
Their grief, though such as to move human sympathy 
and divine compassion, they must allow would be 
blameable if it should be indulged without measure 
and control. To grieve, and to grieve bitterly, ac- 
cording as the occasion is one of distressing trial, is, as 

12 



90 DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

has been said, a tribute to nature on which religion 
does not frown. But to abandon one's-self to grief, to 
indulge the passion without attempt at restraint, is 
plainly a course unworthy of a being, whom, in all cir- 
cumstances, conscience and sense of duty ought to 
admonish, and trust in God ought to sustain. To 
concentrate the attention on what has been lost, so as 
to acknowledge no worth and take no satisfaction in 
blessings which remain ; to suffer our impatience to 
vent itself in murmurs against God, or a sullen or 
irritable deportment to our associates ; to refuse to 
be comforted, and permit sorrow to put an end to 
our usefulness, or prey upon our health or life j 
— these are intemperate expressions of grief, which 
a christian cannot approve in another, nor allow in 
his own practice. 

But how is moderation in grief to be maintained ? 
For it is easy to say that we should be resigned; 
the difficulty is, how to acquire that state of feeling. 
Doubtless it is to be maintained in part by consider- 
ation of the criminality of an opposite course, evinc- 
ing as this does such a want of self-command, and 
such a want of gratitude for God's continued favors, 
and of confidence in his parental love. But it must 
be owned that the tempest of the feelings is not at 
once to be stilled, by reflecting merely that we do 
wrong to suffer it to rage. What we are bound to 
do, we are equally bound to seek and use the means 
of doing ; and the speediest and most effectual way 
to recover peace of mind, when the obligation of 
that endeavor is felt, seems to be, to trace out and 
contemplate the causes which exist for acquies- 



DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 91 

cence. Accordingly, I know of nothing more char- 
acteristic of a christian mourner, than a readiness 
to see, and rate at their due worth, whatever conso- 
lations may be found. Is our affliction such as is 
common to man, or have we long had merciful no- 
tice of its approach ? We ought not to magnify it 
* as if some strange thing had happened.' Is the 
blessing denied or withdrawn, compensated by other 
blessings ; or had we a protracted enjoyment of it 
before we were called to resign it ; or are we, after 
all, more privileged on the whole than most or than 
many of our associates? Let us not shut our eyes 
to this, but own it and be thankful for it. At all 
events, that we have reason and revelation, and may 
have a hope of everlasting life, whatever else we 
may have, or want, or lose, is enough, one would 
think, to forbid us to say that we have no resource 
for happiness left. Whatever we have possessed, it 
was God who gave it ; and he remains as able, as he 
then was, in some way to supply its place, or indem- 
nify us with other bounties, or otherwise reconcile 
us to our privation. Whatever we may have suffer- 
ed, he is able, — this is a truth which perplexes our 
imaginations for the future, but our experience 
vouches it for the past, — he is able to make it co- 
operate with all the arrangements of his kind prov- 
idence for our good ; and if, as we sometimes might 
seem to desire, the management of our concerns 
could be transferred from his hands to our own, how 
plain is it that we should soon be driven to ask, as 
the greatest of boons, that he would resume the 
trust. However we may have been tried, it has not 



92 DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

been as he was, who for our sakes, ' endured such 
contradiction of sinners against himself;' and to 
him we may always look when we are tempted to 
be weary and faint in our minds. Such considera- 
tions are but a few of the most general ones, to 
which in its adversity the religious mind has re- 
course, to chasten its tumultuous emotions. Special 
considerations of a similar tendency belong to each 
individual visitation of sorrow. If we will be blind 
to them, we may sorrow without hope. But if, as 
our duty is, we take pains to search them out and 
do them justice, our grief may be keen, but it will 
hardly be indulged beyond all bounds of reason. 

II. To have learned to grieve without extrava- 
gance will be a preparation for other duties of the 
afflicted, of which I proceed, secondly, to name the 
maintenance of a benevolent interest in others. 

It has been often mentioned as a good use of af- 
fliction, that it softens the heart ; and that tendency 
it doubtless has, when its action is regulated by a 
christian spirit. But immoderate grief is in its na- 
ture a selfish, an anti-social passion. The mourner 
who does not feel that the obligations of a christian 
are upon him, is tempted to think too much of the 
immunities of his condition, and, along with this, to 
judge very erroneously of its claims. As to the lat- 
ter, conceiving that excess of grief proves great in- 
tensity of affection, he refuses to control his sorrow 
lest he should seem to wrong an attachment which 
he knows was cordial and devoted. A heathen 
moralist could reason better than this. 'No evil,' 
said the eloquent Roman, l hath happened to my de- 



DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 93 

parted friend. Whatever it be, it concerns only 
myself; and to be severely afflicted at one's own 
misfortunes is a proof not of love to our friends, but 
to ourselves.' And though this mode of arguing 
certainly does not show that grief on the like occa- 
sion is unreasonable, it does show that we cannot 
reasonably indulge it to extravagance, on the ground 
of any disinterested sentiments which it proves. 
And if we are assured that others will be tender, in 
their blame of us, for any weak and selfish surren- 
der to our griefs, this is the worst of reasons why 
we should be tender of ourselves. There has much 
been very mischievously written, in books of poetry 
and fiction, and elsewhere, going to represent incon- 
solable sorrow, forever brooding on its painful re- 
collections, and withdrawn by them from other 
cares, in an amiable point of view ; and the young 
and sentimental have been often betrayed by that 
outrageous representation. A christian cannot ac- 
knowledge the least justness in it. The immoderate 
passion of grief, as far as its excess is voluntarv, 
as far as it is to be traced to indulgence, is to be re- 
garded in the same light with other immoderate 
passions. Its victims are to be pitied, but certainly 
they are not to be justified, much less to be admired. 
What is a culpable excess in grief, it may be diffi- 
cult, or impossible, for any but the individual con- 
cerned to know. Men are not formed alike ; and 
an excessive sensibility, constituting a sort of moral 
impotence in this respect, has seemed sometimes as 
if it were a part of the original constitution. Also, 
there may be conceived a complication of sorrows 



94 DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

which would threaten to enervate the stoutest, and 
overwhelm the best fortified christian hearts. But, 
apart from the large and just allowance due to such 
peculiar causes, he who should be in the way to die, 
as it is said, of a broken heart, — however others, 
in their indulgence, may regard him, — has scarcely 
a right to regard himself with more respect, than if 
he were falling a victim to any other intemperance. 
An unrestrained passion, — let me call it, for plain- 
ness' sake, by a harder name, an ungoverned tem- 
per, — is wearing upon his strength. It may be 
now too late for him to resist its ravages, but so it 
is in other cases of inordinate self-indulgence, which 
excite less commiseration. The fault was in not 
beginning the work of self-control in season. If, 
indeed, he struggled with all his might, but ineffec- 
tually, he stands acquitted in his conscience and be- 
fore his judge. If he did not so struggle, till, 
through his own fault, it was too late, he has been 
his own destroyer. 

Yes, my hearers, no one has a right because he 
has been afflicted, to suppose that he may surrender 
himself to unprofitable and selfish grief. If this 
were admissible, and every one who was entitled 
to the privilege were to claim it, how many do we 
suppose would remain in the world, who were under 
obligation to concern themselves for others' happi- 
ness ? That the afflicted should appeal to others 
for sympathy, — for I need not repeat that these re- 
marks have application only to cases of wilful per- 
severance, of self-indulgence in lamentation, — is 
not only right ; it is even benevolent. It is an ac- 



DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 95 

ceptable mark of their confidence in others' good 
will. But it is not right that they should retire 
within themselves, and on the ground that they 
are so disheartened by their calamities, dispense 
themselves from all interest in others' concerns; and 
still less is it right that they should inflict perhaps 
the worst pang on the hearts of those who share 
their sorrow, by cherishing bitter regrets which 
they will not permit to be consoled. Some time 
of solitude is reasonably allowed to the afflicted to 
compose their spirits ; and there are scenes of or- 
dinary action from which, if there be no distinct call 
of duty, they may for a further time be excused for 
shrinking. But the dispensation thus created from 
the duties of one's place in life, is one of no long 
duration. It should rather be the aim to go back to 
them as soon as the needful strength can be recov- 
ered ; and the afflicted disciple of that man of sor- 
rows, whose sorrows never withheld him from the 
work of doing good, will be impatient to give abun- 
dant proof, that, in being made to feel for himself, 
he has been led to feel more sensibly for others. 
Even to the earliest period of his recovered self- 
command, there is a favorite ministry of benevolence 
peculiarly appropriate ; for the afflicted are the best 
consolers of affliction. Their communion, if it be 
in other respects what it may be, is worth more to 
a mourner than that of the best of other friends. 

III. A third counsel belonging to our subject is 
given by the wise man, where he says, ' in the day of 
adversity, consider.' 

The day of adversity is a time especially favor- 



96 DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

able to that serious reflection, which to all may be so 
useful, and of which many stand so much in need. 
Gay views of life are hasty and superficial ; and such 
are the views, to which in a course of uninterrupted 
prosperity the mind is liable to be confined. It is 
apt then to be giddy, and so to look at nothing stead- 
ily ; to be hurried from object to object, and so to 
look at nothing long ; to be confident in its judg- 
ments, so as to give them no fair opportunity to be 
right ; to be flattered, which is but another name 
for being deluded. The view of seriousness and 
humility, — states of mind which affliction favors, — 
is likeliest to be the view of truth ; and if adversity 
too has its occasions of false judgment, and a de- 
pressed mind, no less than an elate one, may discern 
objects through a distorting medium, still we shall be 
the better assured of a true result, for comparing 
observations made from different points of view. 
The reflections of adversity certainly tend to reduce 
many things to their true proportions, which may 
have figured before us, with a magnified importance. 
They do strip < the worshipped pageantry of pride' 
of much of its attraction. They do show us, that 
there is something we need more than the gratifica- 
tions of the passing hour, and something beyond 
what wealth can purchase. They do expose the 
pretensions of everything external to the soul to 
confer a trustworthy happiness, and display the 
worth of the treasures which are lodged within it. 

The thought of our sins in prosperity is apt to be 
a transient and unaffecting thought. In the gladness 
and inconsiderateness of our hearts, they cost us 



DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 97 

little apprehension and little regret. In the subdued 
hour of adversity, the consideration of them comes 
to us with solemnity and power. Our feelings 
already harmonizing with the sentiments which they 
ought to prompt, they are seen in their reality ; they 
make their inexcusableness and their danger known. 
Our obligations too then present themselves in an 
impressive form. We find ourselves thrown on our 
own resources for peace of mind. We are made to 
feel that an approving conscience, and, what naturally 
attends it, a tranquil trust in God and hope of his 
approbation, are what we have cause most to covet 
or to prize, as the case may be ; and the holy life 
which wins them reveals itself to us for what it is, — 
the one thing demanding our diligent and earnest 
pursuit. 

But the consideration most directly pressed on the 
afflicted by the state to which they have been brought, 
is, of what use does it admit for the furtherance of 
their spiritual interests. I do not say, for what 
purpose has it been ordained to them ; for this is a 
question which they cannot expect completely to 
resolve, though, if they use it well, one purpose for 
which it will then appear to have been sent is, to 
make them better men. The proper subject of con- 
cern in any posture of circumstances, is, not that it 
has occurred, — that it has occurred is now a deter- 
mined and unalterable thing ; — but, how to make 
the best of those circumstances ; what use to fix on, 
to be made of things as they stand. The afflicted 
are to consider, what temper of mind their condition 
demands of them to manifest ; what virtues it 
gives them facilities for cultivating, and how its aid 

13 



98 DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 

may be secured for that use ; how they may so de- 
mean themselves in their trial as to please God, and 
to serve the cause of the religion of Jesus, as others 
in time past have done, of whose example of pa- 
tient endurance of calamity they are themselves now 
experiencing the benefit. Revolving such consider- 
ations, and carrying their lessons into practice, how 
many have afterwards found occasion to say, that 
affliction was a genuine and distinguished blessing 
to them. The best characters we have known are 
such as have been formed under its discipline. 
There are examples of an excellence, which, with- 
out training of this nature in some form, does not 
seem capable of being attained. An old philosopher 
said, of a voyage in which he suffered shipwreck 
and lost his earthly all, that it was the most success- 
ful voyage he ever made, for it led him to renounce 
other pursuits for the pursuit of wisdom and virtue. 
How many christians are there who trace acquisi- 
tions, which now incomparably above all others 
they prize, to considerations suggested, resolutions 
formed, feelings chastened, under circumstances 
which, at the time, they regarded only as the most 
distressingly disastrous. 

IV. Once more ; * is any afflicted, let him pray.' 
' He is a miserable man,' says one, ' who is afflicted 
and cannot or will not pray.' 

Let the afflicted pray, because he much needs 
what the world cannot give him, and what God, 
whom he addresses, is able and ready to give. Let 
him pray, because the very act of prayer will tran- 
quillize his spirit, and raise it above passionate sor- 
row, and inspire it with new hope. Let the afflicted 



DUTIES OF THE AFFLICTED. 99 

pray, because prayer is the natural language of 
confidence in the best of friends, and that confidence 
will grow and brighten while it is expressed. 
AYhen we draw nigh to God to ask comfort of him, 
and strength to sustain the day of his visitation, it 
cannot be but that every feeling as if he had wronged 
us, as if he had dealt hardly with us, in the trial we 
endure, will be banished from our minds. Let the 
afflicted pray, because in that season when the mind 
in its desolation has recourse to the power which 
alone can give it support, and the love that knows 
no limit, prayer has a peculiar fervor, is a peculiar- 
ly deep and earnest breathing of the affections ; 
the worth of the privilege of prayer is more 
than ever revealed, and the pleasures of devotion 
are permanently endeared to the soul. Let the af- 
flicted pray, because as has been seen, their situation 
imposes on them duties ; duties, through which they 
may advance their own spiritual interests, please God, 
profit others, and serve the cause of Christ ; and 
to acquit themselves well of these, they need guid- 
ance and strength from above, whence prayer will 
bring strength and guidance down. Let the afflict- 
ed pray, finally, because the great example of suffer- 
ers, Jesus, prayed. And let them endeavor to pray 
with some portion of his spirit. Submission is the 
christian's divine peace which passeth under- 
standing ; and if the prayer which breathes it do 
not bring down, as it did to the Saviour, a strength- 
ening angel, it will itself do an angel's office to the 
stricken heart. 



SERMON VII. 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 



PSALMS XLI, 3. 

THE LORD WILL STRENGTHEN HIM UPON THE BED OF LANGUISHING ', 
THOU WILT MAKE ALL HIS BED IN HIS SICKNESS. 

The subject which I propose for your considera- 
tion at this time, my hearers, — the duties of the 
sick, — may at first sight appear inappropriate to 
those, who, being able to be present here to medi- 
tate on those duties, must be supposed to be not in 
that condition to which they belong. But sickness 
is a condition, to which, in the common course of 
providence, we all must expect to come sooner or 
later, and to which we are never secure against be- 
ing immediately brought. Undoubtedly it behooves 
us to be acquainted with duties which we may at 
any time, and in all probability must, at some time, 
be summoned to practice. And the urgency of this 
case is even peculiar. In other cases we act under 
a disadvantage sufficiently great, if we have still to 
learn what our course ought to be, when the time 
for taking that course has come, and all our energies 
are demanded for its actual prosecution. But here, 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 101 

that application of the mind, by which past negli- 
gences of this nature might be partially made up, 
cannot be reckoned on to be at our command. 
Sickness sometimes overthrows the mind, and is al- 
most sure, more or less, to discompose it. In its 
hours of lassitude and giddiness, and pain, whatever 
direct attention can be given to anything, is of ne- 
cessity much occupied with physical infirmities and 
cares ; and, at best, a more or less diseased state of 
the spirits must be expected to accompany physical 
disease, in which the soundest investigation of the 
principles of action, if that investigation be then 
for the first time taken up, is little to be looked for. 
It is a temerity not very different from desperation, 
to put off inquiry into the demands of such a condi- 
tion, till we find ourselves already in it, and accor- 
dingly, by the necessity of the case, perhaps wholly, 
certainly in some degree, incapacitated for that in- 
quiry. 

Under the description of duties of the sick, some 
are to be classed, for which sickness provides, strict- 
ly speaking, the occasion. Patience is one of these. 
Sickness is afflictive, and accordingly furnishes a 
sphere for the power of bearing affliction well. 
Others, of which several will be mentioned, not only 
ought to be, but on all accounts would more satis- 
factorily and completely be performed in health. 
They are named among duties of sickness, because, 
if slighted before, there is created a necessity, the 
more pressing and imminent, for their receiving at- 
tention then. It will be sufficient to have guarded 
against misapprehension by merely making this re- 



102 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

mark. I proceed, as was proposed, to specify some 
of the duties of those visited, in God's providence, 
with sickness. 

I. The first duty, if most unhappily it still remain 
to be done, is to establish their faith in the Gospel 
of Jesus Christ. 

It is indeed a case pitiable beyond description, 
when one who has received this warning that God 
designs to call him soon away, who sees cause per- 
haps to believe that only a few distracted hours re- 
main to him of earthly life, is without that faith 
which is then the only anchor of the soul ; knows 
not that Jesus has brought life and immortality to 
light ; is not convinced that God has sent through 
him to the penitent and faithful a message of par- 
don and peace. It is a desolation of the mind, 
which one shudders to contemplate, when, in its 
time of trial and fear, it does not know that there 
is a Saviour in whose love it may find refuge. And 
the reasonable dread of the wretchedness of such a 
state may well incline us, while the leisure of health 
permits, to acquire, as we may, that fixed and en- 
lightened persuasion of the divine authority of the 
gospel, which may enable us, in the season of our 
urgent need, to rest, with entire assurance, on its 
disclosures of grace and truth. 

If sickness come on any by whom this has failed 
to be done, it is impossible not to commiserate 
their condition, and tremble for their fate. But 
still the precious faith they have slighted never 
teaches the lesson of despair. Still of them who 
seek it, it offers to be found. Let them consider, 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 105 

if Christianity be from God, how much it imports 
them to know it. Let them own, what certainly 
there is no denying, that the assent of so many of 
the wise and good to its claims, is at least a pre- 
sumption that it is what it professes to be. Let 
them ask themselves, whether some attention is not 
deserved by a system, which, its enemies themselves 
being judges, breathes so generous and divine a 
spirit. And having advanced thus far, they will see 
reason, if they are able, to examine the scrip- 
tures, to which God has given a power to recom- 
mend themselves. They may be expected, under 
this new motive, to be inspired with a curiosity to 
investigate, as far as their infirmities permit, the ev- 
idences of that faith which cannot but appear to 
their own minds to be worthy, if true, of all ac- 
ceptation. Or if not in a condition to prosecute 
an inquiry so interesting in any other way, they 
will seek the aid of some well-instructed christian 
friend, who will undertake the good work of impart- 
ing to them the knowledge they need, and solving 
the questions that perplex them. It may be, that, 
before their change comes, the truth may thus be 
made to shine into their minds, and themselves, by 
its sanctifying efficacy, be converted and saved. 

II. But this, which is undoubtedly the most un- 
manageable case of all, it is to be hoped is also one 
of the most infrequent. For a second duty of the 
sick, I name that of self-examination. 

Doubtless, my hearers, we have none of us, either 
in sickness or health, any security for continued life. 
It is the constant agency of God, and nothing else, 



104 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

which sustains us in being from one moment to 
another, and that may cease in any moment, for the 
healthy as well as the infirm. But it is nevertheless 
true that sickness is a warning to us of mortality ; 
that according to our reasonable calculations of 
probability, sickness, in proportion as it is severe, 
increases the probability of our being summoned 
soon away. Hence arises an urgent necessity for 
forming an acquaintance with ourselves. What it 
was always foolish and hazardous to delay, can now 
with no safety be delayed any longer. We may be 
sensible that the inquiry will lead to painful devel- 
opments. That will not dispense us. It is through 
our previous fault, if it do ; we have none to blame 
for it but ourselves ; and that which is our condem- 
nation we may not convert into our excuse. And 
again, bad as the case may be, it is only the worse 
for our not knowing it. An unawakened conscience 
is the most of all things to be dreaded ; and, when 
the conscience has been awakened, the only way to 
recover peace of mind is to resolve to turn from 
one's sins, which cannot be done till they are inves- 
tigated and known. On the other hand, let them, 
whose consciences may testify favorably of their 
past lives, examine themselves that they may have 
all the comfort of this testimony. In their long- 
days of distress, and nights of weariness, they will 
experience it to be the most efficacious of anodynes. 
Let the sick be admonished to employ, as best 
they may, the time which perforce is sequester- 
ed from other employments, in a careful inspection 
of themselves. Have they hitherto used life ill ? 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 105 

On the repentance, for which such a scrutiny is the 
foundation, rests their only hope of being saved. 
Have they used it well ? That inquiry will show 
them, how, if spared, they may use it better, and 
will afford them meanwhile, the most availing con- 
solations. 

Let me but add, that the aim should be to conduct 
the self-examination which is here recommended, in a 
spirit of justice, removed alike from self-indulgence, 
on the one hand, and from undue severity on the 
other. That we should be strict enough with our- 
selves, is essential to our coming to a knowledge of 
the truth, in a case where self-deception is self- 
abandonment ; and on the other hand, we are to be 
on our guard against unreasonable scruples, which 
only the low spirits of sickness may suggest, and 
which might tempt us to despair, or divest us of 
our energy, at the time when we have most need of 
it all. In this, as in other cases, we are to endeavor 
to exercise a sound and manly, which is the only 
trustworthy judgment, presenting distinctly to our 
minds the requisitions of the gospel, as best we un- 
derstand them, on the one hand, and on the other, 
our own actual practice, and comparing these together 
with a sincere desire to come, not at a flattering 
representation, but at the truth. 

III. What I am to name as a third duty of the 
sick, has been already implied ; that of repentance 
of past sins. 

Repentance of them is the ground, on which 
we are taught in the gospel to look for their remis- 
sion ; and it is to be regarded as a gracious dis- 
14 



106 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

position of things that, in the common course of 
providence, sickness, which affords an opportunity 
to complete that repentance, is appointed to be the 
precursor of dissolution. I say, to complete that re- 
pentance ; for from the repentance begun in fatal 
sickness, under the most favorable circumstances, 
nothing can be confidently hoped. It is scarcely 
possible for the convicted sinner himself, still less 
for his friends, to distinguish between the anguish of 
fear, and the anguish of contrition, between aversion 
to impending punishment, and aversion to remem- 
bered guilt ; and even if a real compunction for sin, 
and abhorrence of it on account of its odious char- 
acter, could be known to be felt, that feeling is no 
further of the nature of an availing repentance than 
as it would, — if life were prolonged, — secure the 
individual against relapsing into his former errors. 
You say that God, to whom all hearts are known, 
may see that the self-condemnation of a dying man 
is of this deep and pervading nature, and would, if 
time were allowed to prove it, prove itself to be of 
this reforming efficacy. And this I do not dispute. 
God may see it. But man can never see it to be so ; 
and man, moreover, can have no sufficient reason to 
believe that God in any given case of the kind sees 
it to be so. For, first, we might argue on the little 
probability that in the confused and timid hour of 
sickness, when the pains of the present and the ter- 
rors of the future distract his mind from connected 
and vigorous thought, he, who in unbroken health 
had been proof against all the sanctifying influences 
of the gospel, should so experience them, as, in re- 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 107 

stored heajth, always to manifest their power. 
And, secondly, the argument would be fortified by 
our too constant experience of persons, who, brought 
to the gates of the grave, have given as unequivocal 
tokens of penitence as any sick bed can show, but 
who, by an impulse, which seemed almost like a 
sort of instinct, have been seen to go back to their 
old vices, as soon as they had strength enough to 
go back to their old haunts, employments and asso- 
ciates. 

Am I contradicting the assertion, then, with 
which I began, that sickness is a time for repen- 
tance ? By no means. I am saying that, under the 
best circumstances, ifis far from being the most fa- 
vorable time, for one whose life has been spent in 
wilful sin. For such a one, I should rely unspeak- 
ably more on a repentance in health than a repen- 
tance in sickness, because the origin of that feeling, 
which has come upon him, is likelier to be pure, par- 
taking less of craven alarm and more of sense of 
duty ; because his mind is capable of a better ac- 
tion and truer impressions ; and because there seems 
to be time before him, not to prove, which is not 
the main thing, but to fix and mature his better 
principles, in short, to make them truly his, by trial, 
and conflict, and use. But here is not the question. 
The decision in the case supposed, is not between 
health and sickness, as the better time for repen- 
tance, but between the time of sickness and none. 
Let the sinner, whom sickness has assailed, use 
that time to repent, for his immortal hopes now de- 
pend on his so using some time, and probably he 



108 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

may be allowed no other. His prospect is a dark 
one, but it is not total night. It is within the reach 
of possibility that he may yet exercise a repentance, 
which, though man cannot, God may see to be 
thorough, and such as, if life were spared, an exem- 
plary christian life would ratify ; and to that possibil- 
ity, frail trust though it be, he is mad if he does not 
cling. And for him who is brought to the close of 
a well-spent life, imperfect as he will still be, how- 
ever devoted, it may well be accounted a privilege 
to lay it down at the summons of some disease, 
which permits him deliberately to make his last 
earthly reckoning with himself and with his Judge, 
and to manifest that contritibn for his remaining 
delinquencies, which, whenever he has expressed it 
in time passed, the improved tenor of his life has 
uniformly evinced to be sincere. 

IV. The fourth remark which I am to offer has 
again been in substance anticipated. Repentance 
essentially respects the future as well as the past. 
It is nothing, if it do not involve a hearty preference 
of all goodness before all sin, and inspire a hearty 
resolution of universal amendment. It is genuine 
when it causes us to feel a profound interest in be- 
coming as good christians as we can ; in knowing 
all our obligations, that we may discharge, all our 
dangers that we may shun them ; in keeping our 
hearts pure from every touch of spiritual defilement; 
in being useful to our fellow-men, according to the 
largest measure of our means ; in serving God our 
Maker devotedly, with our bodies and our spirits 
which are his. 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 109 

A due interest of this kind will prompt us to 
practice some forethought. It will dictate to us to 
lay out definite plans, for our future years, — should 
they be prolonged, — having reference to the occu- 
pations, associates and temptations among which we 
must expect to pass them ; plans by which the 
good general resolutions we have conceived may be 
carried into effect. For resolutions of obedience in 
general, in general come to nothing. If we really 
feel an interest in them, if we really wish them to 
succeed, we must have careful respect to the means, 
to the labors, through which, by ourselves, in our 
circumstances, this event is to be brought to pass. 
And, independently of this consideration, sickness, 
if it is not to prove fatal, which we cannot certainly 
know that it will, is a pause which providence cre- 
ates for us on the journey of life. It is then a di- 
viding period, where we are forced to stop and re- 
flect, between the past, from which experience is 
to be gathered, and the future, to which it may yet 
be applied. We are greatly self-negligent if we do 
not so use it, that, if permitted to proceed again on 
our way, our way for the future may be in all re- 
spects more prosperous. There is much stored 
in our memories for our minds to act on. There 
is nothing from which we may not extract useful 
lessons ; and when the intervals of pain permit, the 
retirement of sickness favors such contemplations. 
He must be a hopelessly unwise man, who departs 
from a sick chamber no wiser than he entered it. 
And among those plans for the future, some of 
which nothing but stupidity can prevent from being 



110 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

devised, plans of religious duty, with a religious 
man and with a genuine penitent, will hold the first 
place. Is he then spared to fulfil them ? Evidently 
it is a great happiness to him that they have been 
formed. Is he not so spared ? Still it is a great 
happiness to have formed them, for his preparation 
for his departure has been so much the better made. 

V. But repentance has respect to the present, as 
well as to the future and the past. There is no re- 
ality in that sorrow, which does not immediately 
amend what is regretted. There is only falsehood in 
those resolutions, which we do not forthwith begin 
to execute. Whatever in truth displeases us, we 
shall abandon, not at some future day, but now. 
Whatever we honestly prefer, we shall do, not de- 
termine to do hereafter. Accordingly, what we are 
to name as a fifth duty of the sick is the present 
practice of piety. 

We are apt, I know, my friends, to speak of sick- 
ness as withdrawing a man from his duties. But 
this is in a very lax use of language. In important 
respects, it would be hard to name a place of more 
responsible service than a sick chamber ; a place 
where christian principle is better tried, or a more 
heroic spirit may shine forth. The christian, in his 
most painful sickness, if the soundness of his mind 
be but spared to him, is daily growing in grace, and 
in the experimental knowledge of his Lord and Sa- 
viour. He is daily collecting richer trophies of that 
victory of faith which overcomes the world. The 
distinctive forms, in which the spirit that animates 
him is to be manifested, relate to his condition, as a 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. \\] 

condition of suffering. This helps him the better to 
testify, and the more to enjoy, his deep seated confi- 
dence in God. An afflictive hand is heavy upon him, 
but no murmur moves his lips, for he knows that it is 
a father's hand ; a father's, who he is sure is regard- 
ing him all the while with deeper tenderness, than can 
be ascribed to any of the friends whose tried love is 
ministering to him with such gentle and unwearied 
assiduities. The suffering, which puts to such a 
proof his spirit of submission, confirms and purifies 
and exalts it. When other help is ineffectual, he 
learns to repose with a more undivided trust on his 
Almighty helper ; he learns to set an added value 
on the consolations with which his unseen, but ever 
present benefactor visits his soul. With that bene- 
factor he habitually communes in prayer, alone, and 
asking, as he has been taught, the intercessions of 
his brethren. Great blessing as it is, which has been 
taken from him, still he feels the obligation and the 
happiness of a thankful spirit to be such, that he 
will by no means permit it to desert him in conse- 
quence of that loss. So far from repining that 
health has at length been taken away, he owns him- 
self to be reminded of the acknowledgments which 
he owes, that amidst so many exposures it had been 
so long preserved. So far from parading and boast- 
ing of his patience, as if it were some extraordinary 
calamity that had fallen on him, and it was owing 
to an extraordinary virtue that he did not complain, 
he takes pleasure in justifying the ways of God, and 
extolling the goodness and mercy which have hitherto 
followed him through all his days. He will extend 



112 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

his view to the various alleviations of his trial ; and 
no one of the blessings which surround him, from 
the largest to the least, will be lost upon his grate- 
ful observation. The many comforts which he may 
command, the skill and the care which minister to 
his weakness, the intervals of ease, even the restricted 
measures of distress, will seem so many calls to him 
to rejoice in the Lord ; nor will he see even cause 
to allow that the greatest of earthly blessings 
has been withdrawn, while he experiences within 
and without him, so many tokens of his heavenly 
father's love. Nor to his heavenly friend alone is 
the gratitude of his placid spirit confined. So far 
from giving way to the discomposure and discontents 
which a suffering frame stimulates in an unregulated 
mind, and complaining that that is not done which 
no human skill can do, or imputing to want of feeling 
what is only want of power, the least kindnesses are 
received by him in a way, which tells that, if he were 
able, he would be ready to requite them with the 
greatest. There is an expression in the low voice, 
in the feeble look of his gratitude, which is itself rich 
requital to a heart of sensibility, — which makes it 
seem like a great privilege to serve him ; and, while 
he is prone to account himself most useless, shows 
howcompetent he is to the great and useful service of 
awakening affectionate and admiring emotions in 
other minds, and winning them to that religion which 
invests him with such a power. 

My friends, it would be useless to attempt to urge 
the truth, that that condition to which these remarks 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 113 

have referred, — a condition to which Ave are in 
hourly danger of being brought, — is one that will 
call for all our resources, that will bring our prin- 
ciples to the strictest test. If we never before long- 
ed for the testimony of an unburdened conscience, 
we shall greedily crave it in that fainting hour. If 
we never before felt the need of divine supports, un- 
questionably we shall feel it then. For that need it 
is but the commonest prudence to be now providing. 
May the spirit be every day maturing in our hearts, 
through which God may strengthen us in our hours of 
languishing, may soften the restless bed of our sick- 
ness. May the determined resolution even now be 
ours, so to use this uncertain time of health, that 
sickness when it shall come, may bring no alarm, 
but only shew, through its gloom, in contrasted bright- 
ness, that light of devotion, which, illuminating our 
own souls, shall glorify our heavenly father, and 
invite those whom we love to approach the narrow 
valley, when their time shall come, by the same 
path of peace. 



15 



SERMON VIII 



DUTIES OF THE SICK 



ISAIAH XXXVIII. 1 . 

THUS SA1TH THE LORD. SET THINE HOUSE IN ORDER, FOR THOU SHALT 

DIE, AND NOT LIVE. 

These words make the message, with which we 
are told that the prophet Isaiah was sent to Heze- 
kiah, king of Judah, in those days when he was 
sick unto death. Sickness in any serious form, in- 
deed we may say in any form, is always to be inter- 
preted as a notice of mortality ; and whomsoever it 
assails, he will do well to understand and reflect, 
that the Lord may be saying to him in that visitation 
of his providence, set thine house in order, for thou 
shalt die and not live. 

I lately discoursed on duties of the sick, explain- 
ing myself to mean, under this denomination, to in- 
clude duties for which sickness provides, strictly 
speaking, the occasion, and duties for the discharge 
of which there arises in sickness a necessity the 
more pressing and imminent, if they have been 
slighted before, though they ought to have been, 
and would have more satisfactorily and completely 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 



115 



been, performed in health. The duties on which I 
then enlarged were such as belong peculiarly to our 
relation to our Maker ; — peculiarly, I say, for in a 
very proper sense duties of every kind belong to 
that relation. Others, appropriate to the condition 
in question, I purposely reserved to be considered 
at another time ; and these I propose for the subject 
of our present meditations. 

The duties I have now in view, are such as belong 
to our relation to our fellow-men, from whom we have 
in sickness received a warning that we are about to be 
separated. We are soon to be taken from this world ; 
at least we very probably may be so. The house 
from which we are removing is to be left in order. 
There are those here, who have claims upon us. 
There are those here whom we are able to serve, 
but whom we shall soon be able to serve no longer. 
We must do our duty by them now, or we shall 
never do it. What are the duties of the sick to- 
wards their fellow-men ? 

I. I name, for one of these, the obligation to 
make a right disposition of our temporal affairs, if 
this have not, — as it should however, as far as pos- 
sible, — been earlier made. 

And since the connexion brings the subject in our 
way, let me stop to suggest that that seasonable di- 
rection of the distribution to be made of one's 
estate at one's death, which is apt to be regarded 
as a matter of discretion merely, is in truth a point 
of serious obligation. There is one case, where 
there is a dispensation from the duty. If a man, 
after having examined the provisions of the law for 



116 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

the distribution of the property of intestate persons, 
is deliberately persuaded that the distribution which 
it will make of what he may leave, is precisely that 
which he would feel it his duty to make ; that it 
w T ould exactly fulfil his obligations of justice and 
charity ; — that is, if his heirs at law are the only 
persons whom he ought to consider, and if the dis- 
tribution which it will make among them is that 
which in their case is the most just ; — in that posture 
of things he has nothing more to do than to prepare 
such a statement of his effects as may save those 
who shall have the charge of them from inconve- 
nience and disputes, and then leave the law to take 
its course with them. But the case supposed is 
probably one of very rare occurrence. The law, 
which can act only through general rules, proposes 
to make the best arrangement which general rules 
can make, to remedy omissions of individual negli- 
gence. But the obligations of individuals in this 
case are endlessly diversified, and such moreover as 
only the individual can perfectly know, so that the 
law cannot undertake to investigate and enforce 
them. It leaves the individual to consider them for 
himself; and the disposition, which, having consid- 
ered them, he sees fit in solemn form to make, — giv- 
ing satisfaction thereby what his purpose was, and 
that he was in a capacity to form it wisely, — that 
disposition, provided it do not encroach on certain 
rights which the law protects, the law lends its au- 
thority to carry into effect. So that the obligation 
to make an equitable distribution of his property 
rests directly on every individual who has property 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 117 

to distribute. Be it ever so little, the obligation is 
the same. When it is little, there is often the 
greater necessity that it be rightly appropriated, and 
he who is best acquainted with it, and has been 
used to the care of it, can best direct how it may 
be made productive and useful. 

As to the manner of such a disposition, it would 
be unsuitable here to say more, than that this is to 
be regulated by an impartial sense of the obliga- 
tions of justice and charity. Reasonable expecta- 
tions, founded on domestic ties, or voluntarily excit- 
ed, are to be well considered ; resentment and par- 
tiality, merely as such, are not to be listened to, 
though there may be well-founded dissatisfactions 
and preferences which should have a voice ; precau- 
tions may demand to be taken for the incompetent 
and the imprudent ; and they who can do more than 
make suitable provision for dependents, nearer and 
more remote, may well indulge themselves in ac- 
knowledgments of friendship, and, seeing them- 
selves to be addressed by a strong claim in behalf 
of the great interests of society, may well reflect 
what they may judiciously do, when departed, as 
well as while here, for the promotion of human wel- 
fare, physical, intellectual, social and religious. 
The making of a will, which is no less than under- 
taking to acquit one's self finally of all one's obliga- 
tions, whether more or less definite, as far as these 
relate to property which one possesses, must needs be 
regarded as a very serious undertaking by a conscien- 
tious man. And, therefore, it should receive atten- 
tion in health, when there is time for consideration 



118 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

and arrangement, when the judgment and the mem- 
ory are clear, and such advice as one may desire is 
easily accessible. 

Thus will so much be taken away from the cares 
of sickness, when other cares will severely press. 
But should this work still remain undone, one of the 
first objects of the attention of the sick should be to 
take from all men just cause for saying, after his 
departure, that they have been wronged by him. 
Whatever informal engagements he is under, he 
should take care to disclose, and so to arrange that 
others may not eventually lose their just advantage 
from them. Is he able to charge himself with any 
past pecuniary injustice which is still capable of a 
remedy ? Let him set himself forthwith to devise 
and apply that remedy. It is shameful that there 
should still be occasion for it, but not nearly so 
shameful as that, through shame, it should be longer 
withheld. To leave a known wrong unredressed 
when we die, if we are capable of redressing it, 
maybe called, without a strong figure, continuing to 
sin in our graves. And having satisfied these most 
peremptory demands of justice, the sick person is 
then, as has been said, to appropriate what may re- 
main subject to his voluntary disposal, in the man- 
ner which a good discretion and good feelings may 
dictate, which may prevent just disappointment, 
burdensome expenses, and especially disputes, and 
do the good which is reasonably looked for at his 
hands. I scruple not to say that he who has made 
no disposition of his estate, while he knows that 
the law would not make provision with it for those 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 119 

for whom he is bound to provide, must, whenever he 
thinks of this in health, have a very uneasy con- 
science, if he have not, what is worse, a very callous 
one ; and whoever should have to think of this 
when it was too late for the evil to be remedied, 
whatever hope he might indulge that God would 
allow for his compunction for what he could no lon- 
ger prevent, could not be wondered at, if his last 
moments were disturbed with a very fearful looking 
for of judgment. 

11. I specify, as a second duty of the sick towards 
their fellow-men, the exercise of a meek and for- 
giving spirit. 

It is a sad and a wicked thing to cherish hostility 
towards another in the proudest days of health. 
We should never bring our tribute of devotion to 
the altar, without having first forgiven, if we have 
aught against any. We should never lie down to 
rest, beneath the protection of a forgiving God, with 
malice festering in our hearts. This, however, is 
done, and from its commonness fails to move our 
wonder. But to be brought to the low estate of 
sickness ; to be forced, one would suppose, to feel 
how little a thing is our resentment and our pride ; 
to be warned how complete our own dependence is 
on mercy ; to hear a summons which we may soon 
have to follow beyond the power of offering another 
welcome to relenting thoughts, — and yet to harbor 
the evil spirit of vindictiveness within us, — evinces 
a great inveteracy of the malignant passions. The 
sick man, no more than the well, is bound to restore 
to his esteem, nor even to his familiarity, them who 



120 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

may have forfeited the one, and made the other, for 
sufficient causes, undesirable. But he is bound, if 
in health he has been so unhappy as to bear malice, 
to discard it now, and go to his grave forgiving, as 
he hopes to be forgiven. And, in doing this, he is 
bound to understand, that, as to what may remain, 
he is no longer to take counsel of the resentment 
which he renounces, but, as far as other circumstan- 
ces in the case recommend or justify, to apprize the 
offending person, and apprize others, of his restored 
good-will, and add all proper tokens of it. On the 
other hand, has he been the wrong doer, and has he 
hitherto persisted in the wrong ? Let him be assured 
that no pretended repentance towards God will be 
available, if, with his eyes opened to its character, 
he do not forthwith all that is in his power to atone 
for it. Unless substantial reasons, well weighed 
and approved in the court of conscience, forbid, let 
him confess his fault to him whom he has injured 
and solicit his forgiveness, convince him of his own 
return to a better mind, and regain, if possible, his 
esteem and good will. If it be the good name of 
another, against which he has trespassed, let him 
spare no pains, nor any sacrifice of personal feeling, 
to make his recantation as public as his offence. If 
it be any wrong which is capable of being repaired 
or requited, let this be scrupulously done. Tore- 
move from our fainting spirits the thought that any 
one, when we are gone, will have just cause to re- 
proach our memory, were this all, is worth what- 
ever it may cost. If he who was wronged, does 
not know that we have wronged him, this does not 



DUTIES OF THE S IC K . 121 

alter our duty. We should set the injury right with 
others, or even be informers against ourselves, ;is 
the case may be. And if there has been blame 
upon us which we did not deserve, — if it was mis- 
understanding which caused enmity, — we should 
not be too proud to be willing to rectify it, in that 
serious hour, when our words, perhaps before dis- 
credited, will be taken for the words of truth. 
Such a pride in our innocence would perchance not 
leave us innocent. We should have such regard for 
the esteem of others, as to think it, not a demeaning 
of ourselves, but our true honor, to be at pains to 
disabuse them of their prejudices. In their mista- 
ken resentment, have they greatly injured us? They 
have the worst, and, in the nobleness of our inno- 
cence, we can bear to make allowance for them. 
This is no humbling, it is rather honoring ourselves. 
Rash and pertinacious as they may have been, it is 
better for us, and much better for them, that they 
should be undeceived late than never. We shall die 
somewhat the more tranquilly, for knowing that jus- 
tice at last is done, and friendship won back to us ; 
and it is a good service to close our days with, to 
dispossess a brother's mind of such undesirable 
guests as are the angry passions. 

III. Sickness invests us with a peculiar power to 
promote the best, that is, the religious welfare of 
those who may be around us, and we should be 
careful to profit by the opportunity. Whatever we 
then say, we may trust will be received as expres- 
sive of our real convictions, for the time when death 
seems approaching is certainly the time, if ever, 

16 



1 22 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

when a man may be expected to be sincere ; and 
we may be sure that if there are any who value us, 
our last words will not fail to make some impression 
on their minds. Or at the worst, if little heed 
seems now to be given them, we may promise 
ourselves that the time will come when they will be 
recalled with better feelings. 

The opportunity is not to be suffered to pass 
without full improvement. Have our lives been 
prevailingly lives of christian duty? We should be 
careful to bear express testimony to the excellence 
of the principles by which we have endeavored to 
be guided ; to declare that whatever others have 
found in us to approve is to be traced to that source, 
and to urge, on the authority of our own experience, 
the great happiness of a christian life. Has a dif- 
ferent course unhappily been ours ? We are to give 
others too the benefit of our errors, and warn them 
against the practices which have been our shame, 
and the temptations which have been our snare. 
Have we marked praiseworthy qualities in any who 
are about us ? We should assure them of our ap- 
probation, and encourage them to perseverance in 
the course which has won it. Have we seen them 
to be in any respect in danger ? We are to ac- 
quaint them with our apprehensions, and entreat 
them to be watchful. In short, with a truly benev- 
olent view to the promotion of their best interests 
when we shall be no longer here to advise them, 
with a truly anxious desire to use well the last op- 
portunity we are to have for their service, we 
shall consider what their circumstances are, and are 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 123 

likely to be, — the excitements to which they may 
be open, and the seductions to which they may be 
exposed, — and shall earnestly endeavor to adapt to 
these the counsels which we address to them. A 
dying man will be listened to, and therefore he 
should feel constrained to speak. He may be can- 
did without offence, and therefore he should speak 
as freely and fully as his strength permits. And 
particularly is it a duty, as long as we live, to con- 
tinue to recommend our religion, by our example, 
to a reception in other minds. Every one under- 
stands that sickness is a severe trial of the resources 
of a christian ; and nothing impresses observers more 
with a sense of the worth of the faith which he 
professes, than to see it enabling him to submit with- 
out complaint to pain, to the loss of his powers of 
action, to the interruption of favorite pursuits, and 
to the prospect of premature separation from them 
who are dear to him, and for whose condition, when 
he shall be taken from them, he might be pardoned 
for being anxious. However unnoticed before, in 
sickness a man is watched, and accordingly his ex- 
ample is of greater consequence. Apart from the 
peculiar interest which near friends, if he have them, 
will take in his state of mind, leading them to love 
whatever supports him, and be pained by whatever 
is adverse to his tranquillity, his impatience will not 
be overlooked under any circumstances, because it 
creates disturbance ; and his spirit of resignation, if 
he have it, can scarcely fail to attract notice and 
praise. So that in sickness men are to consider 
themselves as furnished with peculiar facilities, and 



124 DUTIES OF THE SICK- 

accordingly lying under a peculiar obligation, to ad- 
vance the spiritual well-being of whoever may hear 
their voice, or witness their deportment. They are 
to present this to themselves as a distinct object of 
endeavor ; and if they have the success which they 
may hope, it may prove hereafter that the chamber 
of their mortal sickness was the scene of the great- 
est benefits they ever have conferred. 

IV. Once more ; to the sick belongs the office of 
consolation. 

Is there any work, my friends, more dear to the 
heart of benevolence than that of soothing the sor- 
rows of the bereaved ? When he who knows that 
his time of departure is at hand, thinks of the grief 
which it must cost to those who will resign him, is 
there any wish which he more feelingly indulges, 
any prayer which he more fervently addresses to 
the throne of grace, than that their desolate spirits 
may find support and comfort in that hour ? The 
fulfilment of that wish, it rests much with himself to 
ensure. Here, let it be well remembered, is a 
great power given to them whom sickness is sum- 
moning away, over the peace of surviving friends ; 
and by every feeling of tenderness for those for 
whom they ought tenderly to feel, let them be con- 
jured not to misuse it. A little time hence, the 
evidence which they are now giving, whatever it be, 
of preparation for their change, will be matter of 
most distressing, or most soothing recollection, to 
them in whose constant memory they will live. 
Have they died, and left little hope that they were 
found with their lamps trimmed and burning ? 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 125 

They have themselves inflicted the bitterest sorrow 
on those, who were deserving of nothing from them 
but the kindest treatment. They have themselves 
smitten the wounded heart with the blow far the 
hardest of all to bear. Has the strict trial of their 
sickness proved that a christian spirit reigned within 
them ; has the soul seemed to be purified, as the 
body decayed, and as the outer man perished, the 
inner man been renewed day by day ; has an unre- 
repining patience, a benevolent interest in others' 
welfare, a filial confidence in God, have affections 
evidently set on things above, has the faith which is 
the soul's anchor, and the hope that maketh not 
ashamed, and the charity which never faileth, testi- 
fied to all beholders that the spirit which has ceased 
from its labors, was meet to be taken to its rest ? 
A legacy of consolation has then been left, which a 
mind of just sensibility regards as inestimably more 
precious than would be a prince's treasures. My 
hearers, when we conceive of our friends as griev- 
ing for us, do we feel grateful for their attachment ? 
Do we think that, if permitted to be invisibly near 
them, we should feel grateful to any who would 
solace their grief? Fordoing them this kind office, 
let us remember we are ourselves by anticipation to 
provide. As long as in health we can be giving 
them various evidence of our devotion to duty, we 
may be laying up in their memories stores of con- 
soling thought against their time of need ; and 
when, in sickness, we are naturally led to think more 
of the supports, to which, in the coming exigency, 
they may have recourse, let us not fail to realize, 



126 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

that here our own power over their feelings is great. 
It is for us to afford them grounds for that assurance 
of our transfer to a happier state, which, when re- 
flection has had time to do its tranquillizing work, 
will chasten their sorrow for our loss into a pensive, 
indeed, but a calm and complacent remembrance. 
And the christian spirit is the surest contagion of 
a bed of sickness. The strong faith of the dying 
is communicated to the bereaved ; and there are 
those, who, nerved and cheered by their communion 
with an excellent departed mind, have felt that they 
should be doing what was unworthy of him whom 
they mourned, if they allowed themselves to lament 
him with a loud and a common sorrow. 

Was it saying too much, my hearers, when, in 
remarking on another class of these duties, I ob- 
served that, in important respects, it would be hard 
to name a place of more responsible service than a 
sick chamber ; — a place where christian principle 
is better tried, or a more heroic spirit may shine 
forth ? Is it not true, that that is a very indefensi- 
ble use of language, in which we speak of sickness 
as withdrawing a man from his duties ? On the 
contrary, is there not danger rather, that, unless he 
takes great care before-hand to avoid that event, 
his duties will be then found to crowd too much ? 
If he has, up to that time, his faith to establish, his 
sins to repent of, his worldly affairs to arrange, his 
enemies to reconcile, his wrong deeds to atone for, 
and his testimony to a hitherto neglected religion 
to bear, — in short, his whole duty to do ; — who 



DUTIES OF THE SICK. 1 27 

will say that the time has come for him to be dis- 
charged from labor ? who will not rather say that 
he has somewhat too much upon his hands ? Let 
him, whom sickness arrests in that melancholy con- 
dition, be warned, as he values his soul's deliverance, 
to apply himself with all speed and vigor to the 
work, appalling as is its magnitude ; to attempt still 
to do it all, and persevere till his last hour of con- 
sciousness, that he may do the most which by any 
possibility he can. But for us, my friends, let us 
leave no such tasks for a time which may not be 
allowed us ; a time which, if allowed, we shall feel 
to be far too short and interrupted for such a work ; 
and a time of distress and feebleness, when it will 
be a great added affliction and hardship to be pressed 
with such cares. What we may do in health to 
make the burden of sickness lighter, we are greatly 
imprudent if we omit. Some weighty duties, as 
we have seen, which are of a nature, when once 
done, to be dismissed from our minds, and which 
otherwise must devolve on sickness, we are able to 
do, and do better, in health. Others arise out of 
occasions which are of our own making, and which 
if we avoid, our task will be so much diminished. 
If we make no enemies, we shall have none to re- 
concile. If we do little injustice, we shall have the 
less to redress. Others, of which self-examination 
and repentance are examples, though they will re- 
main to be further prosecuted in sickness, since their 
demands never cease while we live, are, if w T e would 
do them well, to be begun in health ; and the acquaint- 
ance, which had been formed with them then, will 



128 DUTIES OF THE SICK. 

stand us greatly in stead in the hour when strength 
and heart are failing. And even as to those duties 
of sickness which are most strictly occasional, the 
preparation for performing them, as we could best 
desire, must be a previous attainment. When we 
would be patient under the sufferings it brings, we 
shall find that we have secured a vast advantage, if, 
in the former trials of life, we have used ourselves 
to the exercises of self-control, and reliance upon 
God. And when we would address to those whom 
we love the solemn admonitions of a death bed, we 
shall do this to so much the better purpose, if we are 
able to draw from the rich stores of a long christian 
experience ; to speak from the fulness of a heart 
that has long been with Jesus. — For whoever in 
sickness must undertake the whole work of life, 
the time of sickness is indeed greatly to be dreaded. 
But for him, to whom it only remains to carry on 
further what he has prosperously begun, and, undis- 
tracted by a load of cares which belonged to another 
period, but were neglected then, to give his mind to 
those which properly belong to the present, with 
the benefit of a preparation which with a seasona- 
ble diligence he had made, — to him it puts on quite 
another aspect. For him it wears no such frown. 
With a tried patience for its pains, and a faithful 
buoyant spirit for its duties, he can take a generous 
pleasure in filling up its few lingering hours with 
that useful service it permits, and greet with a meek 
but a serene and happy hope, the coming of the 
last of th*e train. 



SERMON IX. 



DUTIES OF THE POOR 



LUKE VII, 22. 

TO THE POOR THE GOSPEL IS PREACHED. 

Our religion, which undertakes to furnish prin- 
ciples for the regulation of the conduct of all men, 
adapts its instructions to those, among others, who, in 
the casting of the lots of life, are appointed to the 
trial of poverty. Poverty indeed is a word of a 
relative, and not entirely definite sense. It is ap- 
plied in a comparison between an individual, and 
any whom fortune has more favored ; and the 
same person who is accounted poor by others more 
prosperous, and perhaps by himself, passes for rich 
in the estimation of those who are poorer still. 
But this indeterminateness in the application of the 
word creates no difficulty in presenting an exposition 
of the duties of the poor. Whoever regards him- 
self as poor, whether with greater or less reason, 
him those duties avowedly concern, and to him their 
consideration may do good. 

I. The first which I will name among duties of 
17 



130 DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

the poor, is the cultivation of a spirit of acquiescence 
in the appointment of providence. 

1 . Why should the poor be dissatisfied with their 
lot ? Is the wealth which they want the only one, 
or the chief, among the blessings of life? Would 
they think the rich not to be justified, if they com- 
plained, for example, of the want of health ? Yet 
what is fortune in comparison with health, and what 
riches would not be thought by their possessor to be 
well employed in its purchase ? Are not most of 
the bounties of providence and the means of enjoy- 
ment free to all men alike ? Are the beauties of 
the material world veiled from any man's view, be- 
cause he cannot call an acre of land his own ? Does 
the sun shine more brightly, or the air breathe more 
softly, or the rose shed a richer perfume, for the 
rich than for the poor ? Has the former any exclu- 
sive advantage in respect to the pleasures of the 
mind, or the supreme enjoyments of virtue ? And 
have the few objects of a reasonable desire, which 
the rich are able to engross, any value, in their ag- 
gregate amount, in comparison with the many and 
more important which are as accessible to others as 
to them ? How unjust then, as well as ungrateful, to 
fix the attention upon these. And how unreasona- 
ble, to lose all the satisfaction which we are invited 
to take in the greater, in vain lamentations that we 
cannot join to them the less. 

2. Again ; while it is not to be denied that a com- 
petency is, in the abstract, a blessing, and that 
wealth may be made so, in the proper hands, still 
we cannot reasonably regret that we are poor, unless 



DUTIES OF THE POOR. 131 

we could be perfectly sure that we are fit to be rich. 
Our comparative poverty may be greatly for our hap- 
piness. It is no small knowledge to. 4 know how to 
abound.' Many are the men whose minds languish, 
whose spirits fail, whose lives are worn out in 
wearisome unprofitableness and trivial discontents, 
merely for want of that stimulus to action, which 
necessity so effectually provides. And very many 
there are, whom the temptations of wealth have in- 
volved in sin, and in its consequences, of misery 
here and hereafter. Such might be our fate, were 
our trial the same ; no man can be sure for himself 
that it would not be ; and if it would, the condition 
which we are inclined to lament, is what in all good 
judgment we should be bound to choose 

3. Once more ; granting wealth to be ever so 
sure and absolute a blessing, what sufficient plea 
will a man make for being discontented because he 
is not wealthy ? That some should be rich and 
others poor, is an unavoidable consequence of the 
institution of property ; and the vast utility of that 
institution to all men, no one, who has not a savage's 
ignorance or a savage's vagrant tastes, for a moment 
thinks of doubting. Alone, it might be almost said 
to make the difference between man, the animal, 
distinguished from other brutes by not much more 
than his erect form, and man, the cultivated being of 
society and sentiment. Without it, it is obvious to 
say, the regular and productive processes of industry 
would be at a stand ; for the sweat of the brow is 
not coveted for its own sake. With as much pro- 
spectiveness as immediate calls of appetite should 



132 DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

dictate, men might hunt like tigers, or fish like 
storks ; but who would plant a field, which all the 
chances of the months before the time of harvest 
would as much favor his neighbor's reaping as his 
own ? Even the miserable spontaneous productions, 
which we should then have in place of the various 
growth of a cultivated soil, would not be suffered 
to reach their natural maturity and abundance ; for 
whoever fell in with them, on the great common, 
would sooner pluck them himself, unripe, than leave 
them to be gathered by and by, by some other pas- 
senger ; and animals, used for food, would, for the 
same reason, be slaughtered, by whoever encountered 
them, half grown. Without property, there could 
be no barter ; and here of course would be an end to 
division of labor, and accordingly in great part to 
that invention, variety, despatch, and skill, in the 
arts of life, which now add so greatly to the power 
of man. In short, with the disappearance of the 
only universal and permanent motive to regular ap- 
plication of their distinctive powers, men would 
sink, in their relation to the rest of animal nature, 
into a feeble and incompetent race of brutes, while 
the diversities of mutual human relation would have 
become no other than those of exterminating war- 
fare, suspicious alienation, and perpetual alarm. 

To complain, then, that some are rich, and others 
poor, would be nothing else, I repeat it, but to com- 
plain of an institution, the absence of which would re- 
duce all men to a condition more deplorable than is 
that of almost the poorest now. For as long as prop- 
erty exists, this inequality must exist as its incident. 



DUTIES OF THE POOR. 133 

There is necessarily a tendency to transfer, and 
through it to decrease on one part and accumulation 
on another ; and accordingly, make an equal distribu- 
tion of it this day, a year would not have passed, 
before differences of diligence and capacity, with 
other causes, would have restored a like distinction 
to what now appears. To complain, again, that there 
are such inequalities, would be to complain, that, 
when a man is needy, there are others, who, not 
being so, are able to help him ; to furnish the re- 
source, which else he would not have. And it 
would be, moreover, to complain of the power 
which the poor man possesses to become a rich one, 
by earning from the rich by his labor what they are 
prepared and disposed to pay. That condition of 
things which causes some to be poor, and others to be 
rich, so far from being a cause of discontent, is 
in all respects far happier for the poor themselves, 
than would be the only other conceivable condition 
of things, which would leave all men miserably un- 
provided alike. When we call ourselves poor, it is 
by comparison with others ; but in truth, if we are 
needy, the circumstance that others are less so, or 
not at all, so far from being an inconvenience to us, 
or a cause of dissatisfaction, is, on all accounts, a 
great blessing, looking to our own interests alone. 

II. I name humility as a second duty of the 
poor. 

I am not saying, my hearers, that a man is to be 
ashamed of his poverty. It is never disgraceful, 
except it have some criminal cause ; and, on the 
contrary, there are circumstances in which it affords 
occasion for an honest pride, as far as such a senti- 



134 DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

merit can be allowed by Christianity. I am not say- 
ing, that a poor man should show anything of a ser- 
vile deportment to a rich one ; or give up, through 
deference to him, any proper confidence in his own 
opinions, especially in his own rectitude. ; or resign 
anything due to his character, or to his just claims. 
I am saying nothing of all this. We speak very 
vainly, when we speak of such a thing as the pos- 
session of more or less gold making a distinction 
like this between beings who are alike God's crea- 
tures and children ; who have minds of the same 
formation ; on whom the same obligations lie, and 
to whom the same hopes are opened. 

But I am suggesting that pride, which is a great 
sin in all, is a very unhappy and hurtful sin in the 
poor. And if an arrogant pride is one of the beset- 
ting sins of affluence, it must be owned that the 
temptation to a jealous pride is one of the trials in- 
cident to poverty. Attaching much more impor- 
tance than is reasonable, to the distinction of wealth, 
one is apt to imagine that others, who possess what 
he wants, are disposed to look down on him on that 
account ; and the diseased vision sees affronts and 
slights, where dispositions the opposite of what 
would have led to them may very probably prevail. 
There is, I repeat it, no reason why a person should 
think the less of himself because he is poor ; but 
certainly there is no reason why he should think of 
himself more highly, or insist on marks of respect 
with which otherwise he would have dispensed, or 
hold himself above what otherwise he would have 
practised. To indulge pride, in our poverty, is to 
make the worst of our condition. It subjects us to 



DUTIES OF THE POOR. 135 

numberless disquietudes in our intercourse with 
other men, prompting to exactions on our part, which 
will not be met, and misconstruing conduct which 
should give us no concern. It may urge us to ex- 
penses which for prudence' and for honesty's sake 
we ought to avoid, and withhold us from employ- 
ments which it would be right and honorable for us 
to undertake. There is nothing in poverty itself, 
which, as to interchanges of friendship, puts nearly 
as much distance between the poor and others, as 
their allowing it to be seen that they are proudly 
suspicious of the treatment they receive, and proudly 
averse to the duties which their circumstances pre- 
scribe. If pride in the rich is oppressive, in the 
poor it is apt to be censorious and factious ; and con- 
sidering that among them it may operate most ex- 
tensively, it may in them, perhaps, do most harm. 
Excited by this spirit, they come to see all that is 
faulty, and as little as possible that is good, in those 
from whom fortune has made them to differ ; to re- 
gard what is done for them as their right, or less 
than their right, and no subject of gratitude ; and, 
in the angry excess of this feeling, it leads the 
poor to regard the rich as their natural enemies, and 
to be disposed to do what they may to disappoint 
and injure them ; to look on public questions as if they 
were questions of oppression or security between the 
rich and the poor, and take their course accordingly. 
If that humility, which is a duty in all men, thus 
guards against some of the principal sufferings and 
the principal temptations incident to a condition of 
poverty, assuredly it has, on that account, in that 
condition, a special claim to be cultivated. 



136 DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

III. This brings us to say, thirdly, that it is the duty 
of the poor, to use all lawful means to extricate them- 
selves from the condition in which they find them- 
selves placed. And this remark is in no way incon- 
sistent with that which was first made ; for that alone 
is to be regarded as a trial appointed to us by prov- 
idence, which we are unable, in the lawful use of 
powers, with which God has endowed us, to escape. 

Poverty into which misfortune has brought us, or 
in which inability to improve our condition keeps us, 
is, as has been said, no dishonor. But not so, with 
that which is the consequence of our own improvi- 
dence or sloth. God has given us strength of body, 
and faculties of mind, in order to enable us, without 
being burdensome to others, to provide for our own 
wants and those of our natural dependants. To 
forbear to use these powers, and so to depend on the 
labors of others for what should be the fruit of our 
own, is nothing less than a species of palpable dis- 
honesty. Nor does the obligation end here. St 
Paul has rightly taught us, that we ought to ' labor, 
working with our hands the thing which is good, 
that we may have to give to him that needeth.' 
Our vigor of body, and ability of mind, such as 
they may be, are a trust for charitable uses to others, 
as well as for our own benefit ; and no one, who 
possesses the power of acquiring, ought to be con- 
tent, without acquiring enough beyond the demands 
of his own wants, to enable him to supply wants 
of others, who do not possess that power. Discre- 
tion too, to be frugal, is a trust of the same nature 
with strength to be diligent. To indulge tastes for 
diversions, for display, or for luxuries beyond their 



DUTIES OF THE rOOR. 137 

means, is one of the least pardonable vices even in 
those who, though able to provide such gratifica- 
tions for themselves, disable themselves thereby 
from making suitable provision for the future, and 
from doing anything for the relief of others more 
needy. Expensive pleasures argue a manifest want 
of principle, where there is not superfluous wealth. 
The more sparing the poor are on themselves, with- 
in the limits of decency, the more do they dignify 
their poverty. Upon them whom others must main- 
tain, the obligation is stronger, to make themselves 
chargeable for the supply of none but real wants, 
and by such industry as they are able to practice, to 
relieve the charge which they occasion ; and while 
they who must receive from others, because they 
would do nothing for themselves, deserve little re- 
spect, far different is the case with him who uses all 
exertions meanwhile to abridge his wants, and to 
provide for them himself, according to his ability. 
He stands blameless, so far, in the sight of God, who 
requires of no man a service beyond what he is able 
to render ; and he stands fair in the sight of men, 
who are always the most ready to esteem and help 
those, whom they see the most disposed to help 
themselves. As a matter of principle, in short, to 
spare and to toil, according to their power, is a duty 
of the dependant poor, that they may make their 
dependence as little burdensome as possible ; and of 
those who are not dependant, that they may possess 
that share of the bounties of providence and of the 
pleasures of generosity, which God, when he made 
them capable of attaining, appointed them to enjoy. 

18 



138 DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

IV. To maintain a spotless integrity, is, in the 
fourth place, a duty to be urged upon the poor. 

If no man can safely dispense with a fair charac- 
ter, peculiarly is the possession indispensable to him 
whose character is his all. Others may buy good- 
will, or at least adulation ; but if the poor will have 
friends, he must obtain them by his good desert. 
Others have resources of a different kind ; but for 
him, his character is what he must live by. But 
since, in point of conscience, all men lie alike under 
this obligation, it would not be named as peculiarly 
incumbent on the poor, were it not that their condi- 
tion is attended with some peculiar temptations to 
violate it. 6 Feed me with food convenient for me,' 
prayed a wise man, ' lest I be poor and steal, and 
take the name of the Lord in vain ; ' and, in addi- 
tion to those temptations which the necessities of 
poverty suggest, there are others incident to the 
condition of the poor, as not being so directly sub- 
jected as the rest of men to the watch of public 
opinion. Let not the poor ever indulge themselves 
in such a thought, as that, because another has more 
than he knows what to do with, of what they want, 
they have a right to appropriate any portion of it to 
themselves, by an unfair advantage. The superflu- 
ous abundance of the affluent is just as much his, as 
the scanty earnings of the poor are theirs, and it is 
just as wicked dishonesty to defraud him of it. Let 
it be their well-earned boast that they are scrupu- 
lously true to their engagements, and faithful in their 
service, of whatever kind ; remembering that the 
labor, for instance, for which they have contracted, 



DUTIES OF THE POOR. 139 

is, to its utmost point, just as much due to their em- 
ployer, as their employer's money is due to them. 
Let them never stoop to become the subjects of 
bounty under false representations of their circum- 
stances, thus fraudulently taking from a generous 
benefactor, and at the same time, from some really 
deserving object of charity, who would otherwise 
have received what has been bestowed on them. 
Let them be sternly resolved that their necessities 
shall never tempt them to become instruments of the 
vices of the rich, or minister to them in any unworthy 
service. And let them covet the satisfaction of feel- 
ing, that, if their character is not the subject of so 
much observation as that of others, they are able to do 
without such a safeguard. Let them strictly abjure 
those low indulgences, which so often degrade those 
who persuade themselves that their vices are too little 
noticed for censure ; or who see themselves counte- 
nanced by associates ; or who give into the sad de- 
lusion, that the hardships of their lot entitle them 
to such a compensation. By a godly, righteous and 
sober life, let them win their own respect, the respect 
of all good minds, and the approbation and favor of 
Almighty God. Thus they will secure all the hap- 
piness, — and it is ample, — of which the condition 
where they are placed, admits. Thus they will act 
well their part, in which it has been justly said, that 
all the honor lies. 

V. Finally ; let the poor be admonished to prize 
and follow the religion of Jesus. 

Other dependence, — a miserable one indeed, — 
other men may fancy that they have ; but to them to 



140 DUTIES OF THE POOR. 

whom this world seems a place of struggle and sac- 
rifice, the hopes of the Gospel may well be especially 
dear. In our religion they will find what will sustain 
them in their privations, and nerve them for their toils. 
In our religion they will learn, that their place of 
duty, as well as what others fill, may be made a 
place of honor and privilege ; for the Son of man 
himself ' came not to be ministered unto, but to 
minister.' In our religion, they will find a peculiar 
adaptation to their wants ; its whole spirit breathing 
patience, lowliness of mind, and a noble principled 
activity, and its author having no place where to lay 
his head, and when he was rich, choosing poverty 
for our sakes, ' that we through his poverty might be 
rich. 5 The poor, above all men perhaps, should prize 
the gospel for the blessings which even now it be- 
stows. It is the charter of their privileges. It se- 
cures them against the oppressions, and confers on 
them a title to the good offices, of their brethren 
who are more favored in worldly circumstances. It 
gives to their labors the weekly respite of the sab- 
bath. It has built for them schools and hospitals. 
It has raised them from the miserable vassalage in 
which they would once have been found, as the 
agents of cruel, or the victims of licentious vice. 
It has apprized them of one place, the presence of 
* the Lord the maker of them all', where, the causes 
of inequality that belong to this probationary state 
removed, the rich and the poor will meet at last 
together ; and it has taught them, by assertion and 
example, how ready God is to choose ' the poor of 
this world rich in faith, and heirs of the kingdom 
which he hath promised to them that love him.' 



SERMON X . 



DUTIES OF THE RICH 



1 TIMOTHY VI. 17. 

CHARGE THEM THAT ARE RICH IN THIS WORLD THAT THEY BE NOT 
HIGH MINDED, NOR TRUST IN UNCERTAIN RICHES. 

Having spoken freely, on apart of the last Lord's 
day, of duties of the poor, I propose now to use 
equal liberty in attempting to expound some of the 
obligations of the rich. Coveted as their condition 
is apt to be, there is none which has more dangers 
or more duties. And, on some accounts, they are 
more liable than others to remain unapprised of 
these. Able to make it for the interest of their 
associates to be in favor with them, adulation is 
what they are exposed oftener to hear, than caution 
or remonstrance. The habit of self-indulgence 
which their advantages tend to beget, naturally ex- 
tends itself to the estimate which they form of their 
characters. Dispensed from the stimulus of some 
motives which compel poorer men to a serviceable 
use of their powers, they are tempted to put too 
easy a construction on all their responsibleness. And 
such, in fact, is the result of these and other similar 



142 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

influences, in action on their minds, that the remark 
was made not without justness, any more than with- 
out force, that ' if some persons were to bestow one 
half of their fortune in learning how to use the 
other half, it would be money extremely well laid 
out.' 

I. The first idea, which is suggested by the 
charge to the rich, not to be made high minded by 
their trust in uncertain riches, is of the arrogant 
spirit which their condition is apt to engender. 

If a man is born to a great estate, unless under 
the control of singularly judicious friends, he is 
commonly from his infant years the object of ob- 
sequious attentions, which give him an altogether 
undue importance in his own view. If his wealth 
has been of his own acquiring, he is led to value 
himself on the capacity and conduct which have 
been thus manifested ; and if it has come to him by 
some happy accident, then he is tempted to assume 
a double portion of what he conceives to be the de- 
portment of the condition he has reached, that he 
may keep the more out of people's thoughts the 
condition from which he rose. Elsewhere, the 
pride of riches is rebuked by the more confident and 
stately pride of hereditary rank ; and the man who 
would be purse-proud, if there were nothing in his 
way, is made to feel that the distinction, on the 
ground of which he would claim consideration, is 
a distinction of very secondary order. But among 
us, such is the nature of our institutions, the pride 
of wealth meets no competition but in the pride of 
office, which, though riches are, as our text affirms, 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 143 

uncertain, is of yet more uncertain continuance than 

the v . 

It is not to be denied, my hearers, that abstractly 
the possession of wealth may reasonably be regarded 
with satisfaction. It is the possession of a power 
to command for one's self many conveniences and 
advantages, and to diffuse extensive benefits. It is 
to be owned that the deference which in various 
ways the rich are in the habit of receiving, and the 
power with which they are conscious of being in- 
vested, and the security of which they are prone to 
be deceived into assuring themselves, — if they are 
seen to be somewhat elevated thereby above a mod- 
est self-estimate, recommend them to a degree of 
allowance on the part of others, on the ground of their 
temptations being peculiar. But this is favor, not 
right ; and the excuses which may be charitably 
made for them, they ought resolutely to refuse to 
make for themselves. Besides, it is on the other 
hand reasonably to be expected, that their superior 
advantages should be used to teach them a nicer 
sense of duty, and a better estimate of things, and 
forbid them to fall into such an error. Error, I say ; 
for what is that independence on which they would 
venture to presume ? Rightly viewed, is not the 
dependence at least, between them and the poor, 
mutual, — if the obligation be not discerned to 
be so ? ' It is a mistake,' says a wise author, ' to 
suppose that the rich man maintains his servants, 
tradesmen, tenants and laborers. The truth is, they 
maintain him. It is their industry which supplies 
his table, furnishes his wardrobe, builds his houses, 



144 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

adorns his equipage, provides his amusements.' And 
suppose that the independence in question, while it 
lasts, were real, instead of wholly imaginary, would 
it be safe to put such an insolent trust in what is pro- 
verbially of so uncertain continuance, that, not even 
waiting to be withdrawn by force or guile, it is apt 
to take to itself wings and fly away, — would it be 
safe, I say, to place such an offensive trust in what 
is so uncertain, as to provoke, by anticipation, the 
vindictive visitations of those, among w 7 hom we may 
soon be numbered, however our inferiors now, — 
and to deserve like measure to what we have meted, 
from them who shall then be raised above us ? Or 
if this fancied independence were ever so real and 
permanent, what ground would there be then, even 
for self-complacency ? Is it a thing of so very great 
consideration ? Is it nearly so great a thing, either 
in itself, or as a fruit and token of our own judicious 
cares, or even, perhaps I might ask, as a means of 
power, is it nearly so great a thing as health, for ex- 
ample, of which, though some think of being grate- 
ful for it, no man thinks of being proud ? Or, if 
otherwise, who made us to differ from another, but 
God in his gracious providence ? And what have 
we that we have not received from him ? And if 
there were all reasons for a self-complacency of 
some kind, still what reason would there be for 
pride, a passion which is merely the torment and 
bane of the soul, doing far more than counterbal- 
ance all the advantages which any one may possess, 
and by which he may think to justify it ? If there 
may be an exacting and disdainful pride of wealth, 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 145 

why not of office and of talent too ? and then what 
occasions for affronts and jealousies are spread over 
the whole extent of society. How vain this de- 
mand for undue respect from inferiors! How surely 
does it defeat itself! How well known is it, that 
the deference which any of us receive, is for the 
most part what we do not claim ! If, instead of con- 
sulting our own happiness as much as theirs, by con- 
descending to men of low estate, we permit our- 
selves to say or do to them what is overbearing 
or contemptuous ; or dispense ourselves from ren- 
dering attentions for which they look ; or even 
make an ostentatious display of our superiority, 
which is painful to them ; how reasonably may we 
expect that they will take care to wound our pride, 
in some such way as to cause its idle gratification 
to have been dearly bought ! If, instead of securing 
that good will of dependents, which from the rich 
man is the cheap purchase of a little gentleness and 
regard for their feelings and convenience, they be 
treated with sternness or indignity, it will be owing 
to their forbearance, if his comfort, which in endless 
ways is in their power, do not largely pay the forfeit. 
If prosperity, to which we have been raised, make 
us insensible to the wants or feelings of such as we 
may esteem beneath us, then there is vastly more 
cause why we should be ashamed of our inhumanity, 
the effect of wealth, than proud of that wealth itself. 
If it have tempted us to break ties of early friend- 
ship, or to attempt to keep out of sight ties of honest 
consanguinity, then we are scarcely worth remon- 
strating with, but instead of pride, we have oc- 

19 



146 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

casion for something lowlier than humility. And 
in heavy addition to the retributions of this life, 
themselves sufficiently serious, what retribution have 
we cause to look for, at his hands, who hath instruct- 
ed us in lowliness of mind each to esteem other 
better than himself! 

II. A second fault against which the rich are 
w r arned, in the charge to them not to be made high 
minded by their trust in uncertain riches, is one which, 
etymologically indeed, though not according to pres- 
ent use, is more directly suggested by the epithet 
high-minded, than thatwhich has been first remarked 
upon. It is that vain and thoughtless elation of 
feeling, which, without taking the form of an offen- 
sive deportment to others, is itself a wasting evil to 
the individual mind. 

It is well for us all, my friends, to have cares. 
There is no one indeed who has them not, if he is 
disposed to see them ; but for any one who is not so 
disposed, it is happy if there are those which will 
force themselves upon his attention. For serious 
cares of any kind make the mind serious, which so 
far is a great good. Without them it becomes light 
and giddy. There are persons, who constitutionally 
seem almost incapable of being led, in the wanton- 
ness of their prosperity, to do or wish ill to any 
human being ; whose feelings towards others appear 
all to be feelings of a superficial, indeed, but as far 
as it goes, a genuine kindness ; but for whom we 
see, that the wish which a true friendship would dic- 
tate, would be that they should have some of those 
1 changes,' for want of which ' they fear not God.' 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. J 47 

They are the spoiled children of prosperity. There 
is nothing substantial in their character. There is 
nothing deep in any of their feelings. The business 
of their lives is a weak and capricious self-indulgence. 
The scriptures, which subject the human character 
to so rigid an analysis, are faithful in exposing this 
tendency. ' He gave them their request, and sent 
leanness into their souls. 1 What a just as well as 
strong picture this, of the condition, in which a 
luxuriance of outward blessings is contrasted with 
that dearth of all that is best in the mind and heart, 
with which we sometimes see it followed. — ' The 
prosperity of fools shall destroy them.' How many 
the instances in which this sentence has been ex- 
ecuted ; in which minds not absolutely ill-disposed, 
nor incapable under other circumstances of blessing 
and being blessed, have been intoxicated and made 
merely giddy and frivolous by too much good fortune, 
as we call it, and seduced away from every strenuous 
and honorable application of their powers. — * In my 
prosperity 1 said, I shall never be moved.' How 
natural a boast for a mind inflated by abundance, 
and by the deference which it brings, and by the 
habit of seeing its own will a law ; yet a boast how 
presumptuous, an expectation how fallacious, a confi- 
dence how sadly ill-adapted to prepare for the changes 
which time may bring. The very waywardness and 
eccentric humors, which such a feeling generates, 
are the occasion of more wants than any prosperity 
can supply ; and the affluent circumstances, which 
to others seem adequate to obviate every wish, are 
but experienced by the possessor to increase their 



143 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

number. — The feeling is as much at war with 
the spirit of self discipline and improvement, as 
with that of content. ' Be not high-minded, but 
fear,' says the apostle, using the self same expres- 
sion with that in our text, and conveying a lesson the 
most needful to be observed by all who are intent on 
growth in grace. But how little consistent with 
this humble and sanctifying spirit of self distrust is 
that vain elation of the mind which we are now 
considering. — And what a stubborn and impractica- 
ble religious insensibility does it threaten to create. 
'When thou shalt have eaten and be full, then be- 
ware lest thou forget the Lord.' This is an admoni- 
tion, called for by well ascertained tendencies of hu- 
man nature. Jeshurun, when pampered, was restive 
and untractable ; ' then he forsook God who made 
him, and lightly esteemed the rock of his salvation.' 
i They were filled and their heart was exalted, 
therefore have they forgotten me.' This is the 
history of many an envied, but unhappy man's ex- 
perience ; and if it would be going too far to infer 
that this kind of prosperity is therefore not to be de- 
sired, we needs must own that it is not every mind 
which has the strength to bear it. 

III. A third charge to be given to the rich re- 
spects ill uses of their superfluous abundance. If 
habits of hurtful luxury are not expressly mentioned 
in the text among the dangers of that condition, 
they may, however, be considered as implied in its 
warnings, since the elation of which we have just 
spoken tends to extravagance, and if such habits do 
not grow out of a trust in uncertain riches for hap- 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 149 

piness, they do spring from a trust in what uncertain 
riches will buy. 

1. Undoubtedly in affluent circumstances, other 
things being equal, there is a degree of exposure to 
expensive vice ; 1 speak of what is most universally 
called by that name. The power of indulging 
every wish that may arise, is itself an encourage- 
ment to vicious wishes. The mind free from the 
cares and engagements which occupy those who 
must make their livelihood, feels a void, unless 
trained to relish the pleasures of study and useful- 
ness ; and in its craving for excitement, is liable to 
apply to that which vicious pleasure will afford. 
And when we add to this the comparative exemp- 
tion, with which the rich may flatter themselves, 
from the control of public opinion, we must see 
cause to allow that, at least to the inexperienced 
possessor of ample fortune, wealth offers a tempta- 
tion to profligacy ; that it is in danger of being 
regarded but as a 6 provision for the flesh, 5 as the 
apostle calls it, ' to fulfil the lusts thereof.' 

2. But profligate habits are not the only kind of 
hurtful luxury. It is for no man's good to be sur- 
rounded and solicited by an excessive portion of 
the conveniences of life ; certainly for no man's 
good to be intent on providing in every possible way 
for his present accommodation and ease, which the 
power of making such provision strongly tempts 
him to do, unless he have been wise enough to pre- 
occupy his mind with some nobler pursuit. To be 
clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptu- 
ously every day, if it belong to a man's station, and 



150 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

he does it without caring for it, and takes good heed 
that it shall not make itself necessary to him, nor 
interfere with any duty, may be but a harmless trial 
of his established virtue. But if the mind devote 
itself to the arrangements of such luxury, though 
then doubtless less depraved than by the grosser 
habits to which we have referred, it is perhaps 
equally enervated, and equally made selfish. Though 
then indeed called away to what is less pernicious, 
it is equally called away from what are the proper 
concerns and tasks of an immortal spirit. The rich 
are by no means to regard themselves as released 
from the obligation of making a circumspect and 
judicious application of their resources ; for the 
highest motive to this is not found in that necessity 
of making their means go the furthest for their 
present advantage, which here creates the only dif- 
ference between the poor and them ; and if it were, 
the principle would be the same, for if there are 
estates which will support a liberal expense, there 
are none which will support an inconsiderate and 
wasteful one. But if it be forbidden pleasures on 
which they would lavish, then they corrupt their 
minds. If it be a less blameable self-indulgence 
which they study, still they enfeeble and waste their 
minds. And if they employ their wealth in an am- 
bitious and prodigal display, then they convert what 
should be the support of their virtues into the sus- 
tenance of that vanity and pride, against which the 
first caution in our text is aimed ; and instead of all 
the good which they ought to study to do to their 
inferiors in fortune, they do them the great harm 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 151 

of exciting them to a rivalship which cannot but be 
injurious as far as it goes, and may prove no less 
than destructive. 

IV. The last warning to be suggested to the rich 
relates to what comes directly under the description 
of trusting in uncertain riches ; namely, an over-es- 
timate of wealth as a source of happiness ; — an un- 
founded imagination that ' a man's life consisted!,' 
as our Lord declared that it does not, ' in the abun- 
dance of the things which he possesseth.' 

At first view it might be supposed that they would 
set the highest value upon wealth, who were most 
in want of it, and least acquainted from their own 
trial with the circumstances which limit and coun- 
tervail its enjoyment ; according to that proverbial 
truth, that whatever has not been proved by us, is 
magnified in our imagination. But in this instance, 
experience does not on the whole justify such rea- 
soning. Great wealth becomes a subject of pride 
to its possessor, not for the benefit of its uses, judi- 
cious or otherwise, but for the fame of the posses- 
sion ; and by a very subtle association in the mind, 
what had been at first justly desired only as a means 
towards the attainment of other advantages, comes 
to supplant in the affections the power which it has 
been held to represent, and, in consequence of the 
pains which have been employed, and the pleasure 
which has been felt, in its acquisition, to be regarded 
as itself an ultimate good, and to be doated on as if 
there were just so much happiness deposited in the 
coffers, which are destined never to be opened, ex- 
cept to crowd them more. Thus past experience 



152 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

and daily observation go to justify that remarkable 
phraseology of scripture, ' when riches increase, 7 — 
not when they fail, as might seem more reasonable, 
— ' when riches increase, then set not thy heart 
upon them.' When they increase, there are not a few 
men, in whom, if the trust in uncertain riches inspir- 
ed by them do not accomplish the effect contempla- 
ted by our text, making them high-minded in any 
sense, it does what is no better, it makes them low- 
minded in the worst sense of that word ; it makes 
them base and sordid. Let him who, in the dignity 
of hereditary opulence, finds himself influenced to 
' trust in his wealth and boast himself in the multi- 
tude of his riches,' — or who, flushed by personal 
successes, experiences the temptation immoderately 
to rejoice, ' because his wealth is great, and because 
his hand hath gotten much,' — let him pause and 
consider what the passion is, with which he is in 
danger of being possessed. It is one of the most 
grovelling which infest our nature ; the most un- 
worthy of an intellectual, heavenly essence like the 
human soul ; the most adverse to those spiritual en- 
joyments which make the soul's proper wealth. It 
is an insatiable and continually goading passion. 
1 He that loveth silver shall not be satisfied with 
silver, nor he that loveth abundance with increase.' 
With a singular perversity, it goes on to sequester 
more and more from all use, whether of its posses- 
sor or of others, the very thing which more and 
more it covets, thus in fact annihilating its worth in 
proportion to the greediness with which it seeks 
after its accumulation. ' When goods thus in- 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 153 

crease,' well asks the wise man, « what good is 
there to the owners thereof, saving the beholding of 
them with their eyes ?' It is a passion strong in its 
temptations to dishonorable and oppressive acts ; so 
strong, that it was not thought too much to say of 
old, * blessed is the rich that is found without blem- 
ish and hath not gone after gold, for it is a stumb- 
ling block unto them that sacrifice unto it, and 
every fool shall be taken therewith. Who hath 
been tried thereby, and found perfect ? Who might 
so oflfend and hath not offended, or done evil, and 
hath not done it ? Who is he, and we will call him 
blessed, for wonderful things hath he done among 
his people. 5 The rich should be contented. How 
inconsistent to make what they have professed to 
pursue as the means of living at their ease, — how 
unreasonable to make this, when acquired, the cause 
of new dissatisfactions. The rich should be scru- 
pulously just. Who can better afford to be, if that 
were a consideration ? And if they make use of 
the resources or the consequence which their afflu- 
ence gives them, to overawe or overreach a poor 
man out of his right ; or to keep back their equitable 
dues to the government which protects them, and 
thus lay an unequal burthen upon others for the sup- 
port of institutions to which themselves are espe- 
cially beholden ; or otherwise to circumvent, or ex- 
tort, or oppress ; in whom might such practices not 
be defended ? The rich should be disinterested. 
Along with a prudent and religious care of their 
affairs, they should be above everything sordid, or 
which looks like sordidness. Is it no privilege to 

20 



154 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

set that example ? Is it of no importance that that 
example be set? In a world of selfishness, not 
to say of artifice, and dulness of the sense of 
honor and duty, like this, is it not of vital concern 
that the credit of a magnanimous and generous 
spirit be kept up ? And from whom ought an ex- 
emplification of that spirit to be looked for, if not 
from them, who have the least apology of all men 
for doing it any violence ? 

These seem to be some of the temptations of the 
rich, my hearers; — temptations which, in many a 
bright instance, we trust, are wholly overcome ; ob- 
structions in the way to everlasting life, which, by 
many a conscientious rich man, are effectually sur- 
mounted. But if temptations incident to that con- 
dition, then doubtless all precautions deserve to be 
taken against them, by whosoever, in that condition, 
is sensible with what great diligence he ought to 
keep his heart. What we have considered as yet, — 
abstinence from the sins which most easily beset 
them, — makes the negative part of the duty of 
the rich. The apostle goes on in the context to pre- 
scribe some further rules for their government, urg- 
ing some of the positive duties which their condition 
permits and requires ; and, following the course 
which he marks out, in a summary consideration of 
these, should we be permitted at a future time to do 
it, we shall probably see reason to allow, that, devoted 
to their due discharge, the rich will indeed find their 
place in society to be, what it is commonly thought, 
a place of special privilege. 



SERMON XI. 



DUTIES OF THE RICH 



1 TIMOTHY VI. 17, 18, 19. 

CHARGE THEM THAT ARE RICH IN THIS "WORLD, THAT THEY BE NOT 
HIGH-MINDED, NOR TRUST IN UNCERTAIN RICHES, BUT IN THE LIVING 
OOD, WHO GIVETH US RICHLY ALL THINGS TO ENJOY; THAT THEY DO 
GOOD, THAT THEY BE RICH IN GOOD WORKS, READY TO DISTRIBUTE, 
WILLING TO COMMUNICATE, LAYING UP IN STORE FOR THEMSELVES A 
GOOD FOUNDATION AGAINST THE TIME TO COME, THAT THEY MAY LAY 
HOLD ON ETERNAL LIFE. 

In considering this morning the admonitions, 
which, in the first part of our text, the apostle ad- 
dresses to the rich against besetting sins, some may 
have been led to the conclusion, that, however on 
other accounts desirable, and however in fact de- 
sired, their condition is to be owned to be one of 
peculiar spiritual danger. A tempted condition, no 
doubt, the scriptures uniformly represent it to be, 
and all just observation confirms the view which 
they exhibit. But when we proceed to consider, 
as at this time I propose to do, some of the duties 
which this condition permits and requires, we shall 
probably find reason to allow that, in the due dis- 
charge of these, it is capable of being made a place 
of distinguished privilege. 



156 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

I. The first duty and privilege of the rich, which 
I shall name, is that of a faithful employment of 
their leisure in a personal culture of the mind and 
heart. 

I am not denying, my hearers, that that was a 
kind as well as a just decree of providence, which 
sentenced men to eat bread in the sweat of their 
brow. Doubtless there is much more happiness and 
virtue in the world, more peace of mind, more be- 
nevolence and self-control, than if, under a different 
disposition of things, the seasons were made to 
yield to us a spontaneous increase, and there was no 
occasion for the mind to be exerted, and the time 
to be employed, in the exercise of the various arts 
of life. I am not saying, that a man has reason to 
complain, because providence has placed him, as it 
has the great majority, in a sphere where such labor 
is his lot. His place is an honorable and a happy one, 
if he will make it so. God will hold him account- 
able for the use of no other opportunities for private 
discipline than what he possessed, though it is his 
duty, by their careful employment, to make what 
amends he may for their scantiness ; and again, 
many men there are for whose benefit it would not 
be, to have the trust of ample leisure, because, good 
men as they are in other respects, they have not the 
power or preparation to use much leisure well. Nor 
am I maintaining, once more, that a life all leisure is 
anything like an enviable life. Of that idea I shall 
dispose under another head. But for a person who 
is capable of using hours of retirement rightly, as 
the rich, with all their advantages, unless they have 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 157 

been greatly untrue to these, ought to be supposed 
to be, it may well be reckoned a high privilege to 
possess them ; and, at all events, when possessed, 
there is a solemn responsibleness for their proper use. 
The characteristic superiority of the rich consists 
not in the greater abundance or variety of material 
blessings which they are able to command ; in any 
greater power to suit their tastes as to what they 
will eat and drink and wear. They can consume no 
more than their poorest neighbor ; and if they feast 
on the greater delicacies, his is the advantage of 
the more natural relish. They can wear no more, 
unless it be what is superfluous ; and if it be of a 
finer texture and a richer hue, there again the lilies 
of the field are rivals that outshine them. And if 
wealth will buy many gratifications which imagina- 
ry and factitious wants demand, still there are apt 
to grow up, along with them and in advance of them, 
fastidious and morbid tastes, which may leave wholly 
on the side of the poor, the advantage of the satis- 
faction which they derive from the supply of their 
more reasonable wishes. No ; the privilege of the 
rich consists not in the power of any such self-in- 
dulgence, but in part, at least, in the opportunity 
they have to retire from more crowded scenes and 
pressing occupations, and enrich and discipline their 
minds with study and reflection. It is a happy op- 
portunity, — every one capable of using it, feels it 
to be so, — that of employing a portion of uninter- 
rupted time, which more active duties do not de- 
mand, in invigorating and informing that intellect, 
which, next to virtue, with whose exercises too it is 



158 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

intimately allied, is the source of our highest pleas- 
ures, and our closest bond to the divinity ; in en- 
larging the range of meditation on the agency and 
will and glories of God, by an extended acquain- 
tance with what he has done in the world of men, 
and is always doing in the world of matter, his 
wonderful administration in the world of mind, and 
his assurances of a yet brighter manifestation of 
himself in the world of spirits ; in adapting, in sol- 
itary thought, the lessons and encouragements of 
religion to the exigencies of one's own soul, and 
maturing and establishing and tracing out the prin- 
ciples, which one proposes to embody in all conduct ; 
in investigations, which may add to the resources of 
action and happiness by enlarging, if it so please 
God, the intellectual property of mankind, or, at 
least, qualifying to impart what is already possessed 
to such as it would not else have reached ; in ele- 
vating habitual communion with the source of all 
good influences, the fountain of intellectual and 
moral life and joy. Such a stated disposition of a 
portion of their leisure deserves to be part of the 
system of those, who find themselves in a condition 
to dispose of their time at will, while life is yet be- 
fore them ; and, by such as have been the industri- 
ous artificers of their own prosperity, how reasona- 
bly may that period be greeted, when they may go 
aside from the perplexity and pressure of active ser- 
vice, to arrange the stores of wisdom which their 
experience has amassed ; to attempt to settle the 
many questions, which, during their active career, 
must have presented themselves, and been stored 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 159 

away without a solution ; and to breathe after the 
contest, to tranquilize, and dispose their minds in all 
fit order, for the change which is approaching. 

II. Such will naturally be a part of the course of 
him, who means not to trust in uncertain riches, and 
who feels his want of some object of confidence, 
more stable and satisfactory. In no view can they 
be a fit object of confidence to any one. If hoarded 
for the sake of possessing them, they are evidently 
then of no avail ; if for the fame of possessing 
them, it would seem that there could be no pleasure 
in this, able to satisfy the mind ; if for the sake of 
personal gratifications which they will purchase, 
they are much rather then, in a reasonable view, to 
be suspected, than to be relied upon. Uncertain as 
they are, were they ever so desirable, they are no 
object of confidence like what the text proposes in 
their place, the living God who cannot change nor 
forsake us. Boon as they are, the confidence which 
they excite is evidently not to be reposed in them- 
selves, but in him of whose favor they are but the 
token, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy. 

In regard to the necessity and obligation of trust- 
ing in the living God, the duty which our text next 
proposes, the rich, though they may imagine other- 
wise, or more probably, may forget the obligation 
which they will not deny, the rich are undoubtedly 
under the same obligation with the poor. There 
is nothing in their wealth, or in what it can pro- 
cure for them, which will make them happy here, if 
God be not in all their thoughts ; and, assuredly, of 
all which they possess, as they brought nothing into 



160 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

the world, so they can carry nothing out, to purchase 
any relaxation, if that might be, of the judgments 
which may await their misplaced confidence here- 
after. But the rich, if any men, have peculiar 
reason to place their trust in God, who hath given 
them all things so richly ; and to withhold that 
trust, argues in them a peculiarly stubborn and hard 
ingratitude. He who can persuade himself, however 
unjustly, that he has few blessings in the past to 
acknowledge, has a plea to make for indulging small 
reliance for the future ; but what can the pretence 
be, when, by the very multitude of favors, the mind 
is intercepted in its ascent to the benefactor, and 
the goodness which they prove is forgotten ? Yet, 
on the other hand, such are in fact the influences 
of this condition on the mind, that a pious spirit, 
in the trial of great worldly prosperity, is accounted 
peculiarly honorable, and receives from the good 
peculiar honor ; and, though this is not among the 
highest motives to its cultivation, still it is not to be 
wholly disregarded in the light of an indication of 
its worth. And, absolutely as trust in God is the 
duty and the happiness of all men, and peculiarly 
as on some accounts it may be expected from the 
rich, perhaps there is scarcely a stronger considera- 
tion to be addressed to them in behalf of the culture 
of that spirit, than the consideration of the great 
efficacy which waits upon their example. Happy 
that community, in which the most prospered are 
careful to let their light shine, from the eminence 
where providence has placed them, before men, lead- 
ing men to glorify their heavenly father ! Happy, 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 161 

when they who seem to have all earthly resources 
at their command, bear witness, in all their lives and 
conversation, that these resources are inadequate to 
their needs, without 'the hope laid up in Heaven !' 
What a spirit of contentment, and acquiescence, 
and satisfaction in religious pleasures, may be then 
introduced into the place of that envy with which 
the rich are so often viewed. How effectual the 
lesson then impressed, of the worth of those attain- 
ments, free to all, which no worldly advantages can 
dispense with or replace. How attractive the ex- 
ample, when presented in association with all that 
men are so apt to respect and prize. And happy 
they who with such advantages may bear such a 
testimony ! If they were capable of coveting wealth 
for the sake merely of the power which it confers, 
it has no power to communicate, which is so mighty, 
to say nothing of its beneficent nature, nor any power 
of which they may be so sure of witnessing the 
marked and wide effects. The rich man, who shows 
that his uncorrupted heart's best trust and hope are in 
the living God ; that the happiness, he most prizes, 
is in those religious pleasures in which all may as 
largely share ; that in his more prospered sphere he 
has found no joys like the joys of devotion, no pos- 
sessions like what faith has enriched him with, — 
that man's life shines a guiding and cheering light to 
the world, and many may find their way by it to 
Heaven. The responsibility of the rich, in this par- 
ticular, is distinctive. It belongs to them to dispel 
the illusion, through which it is believed by so many 
that the gifts of fortune are able to awaken in an 

21 



162 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

unsanctified mind a satisfying pleasure. They are 
competent witnesses to the contrary. Their testi- 
mony will be received ; and of all the services which 
they can render there is none to be more esteemed, 
and of all the power which they may possess there 
is none so worthy to be envied. 

III. Once more ; it is to be charged upon the 
rich in this world, that they do good, that they be 
rich in good works, ready to distribute, willing to 
communicate, — in short that they be prompt to 
liberal offices of usefulness ; and this is a duty of 
the rich so obvious and eminent, that, in common 
estimation, it seems to throw others almost into the 
shade. 

Other men, no doubt, are to do good too. The 
rich are not to monopolize that great enjoyment. 
Providence is not so partial ; but every man who 
is able to labor, working w T ith his hands the thing 
which is good, is entitled to promise himself, and 
is called on to enjoy, the satisfaction of giving to 
him that needeth. But the privilege of the opulent 
consists in their ability to be ' rich, 5 — to be abun- 
dant, — ' in good works;' in their being at all times, 
' ready to distribute,' without having to wait to 
provide the means ; in their power of ' willingly 
communicating,' — cheerfully and without difficulty 
or embarrassment imparting, — and that over a wide 
extent. That they are designated and introduced 
to that office by virtue of the very place which they 
fill, is a pregnant truth which the rich need to ap- 
prehend and familiarize. Their wealth is not com- 
mitted to them for their own sole use, even their 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 163 

honest and moderate and irreproachable use. 
Though they have one kind of right to it all, on 
which, for wise reasons concerning the general wel- 
fare, man must not be suffered to encroach, in the 
sight of God they have no right to that portion of 
it, which, superfluous to them, another requires at 
their hands for the relief of his pressing necessities. 
It would be unreasonable to suppose it. To use 
the words of that clear casuist whom I have before 
quoted in another part of these remarks, * when the 
partition of property which once was common, is rig- 
idly maintained against the claims of indigence and 
distress, it is maintained in opposition to the inten- 
tion of those who made it, and to his, who is the 
supreme proprietor of everything, and who has filled 
the world with plenteousness for the sustentation 
and comfort of all whom he sends into it.' And 
the scriptures confirm this reasonable view, in that 
phraseology in which they represent all men who 
have received from God, as bound to minister of 
what they have received one to another, being 
thereby constituted l stewards,' trustees and dispen- 
sers ' of his manifold bounty.' 

I am not saying, my hearers, that, because a man 
has what he does not immediately want, he is there- 
fore to give it away. To endeavor to lay by a suit- 
able provision for our age is a part of justice ; and 
to make suitable provision for those whom we must 
establish and must leave, is also a part of justice, 
and a primary part of beneficence too. I am not 
denying the abstract truth of that precept, which 
bids us be just, before we are generous. When, in 



164 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

the order of time, one or the other must have prece- 
dence, it is justice which has the claim to it; but 
in the great majority of cases we may by due care 
be generous while we are just. I am not saying, 
that a man accounted rich is to give when and what 
he is asked to give. It is his right, — nay, it is his 
duty, — to be his own judge of ability on the one 
part, and of occasion on the other ; nor has any one 
the smallest right to condemn him for withholding, 
for his obligation is subject to be determined by cir- 
cumstances which only himself may know. I am 
not saying, that he ought to give to what he does 
not himself discern to be a good object, however 
unanimously and vehemently others may proclaim it 
to be so. I am not saying, that he ought to give to 
anything what in the exercise of a conscientious 
judgment he believes would better remain by him, 
for some different use, whatever that may be, which 
recommends itself more to him. But I am all in 
the dark as to the interpretation of our religion, if 
he is not to hold himself ready and prompt to give, 
as often as good cause is presented, and as liberally 
as the cause justifies ; if he is not desirous to do all 
that his disinterested good sense tells him is his fit 
part in this distribution. Having, by the supposi- 
tion, reached that point, where he is able to afford 
superfluities for himself, he is bound to reckon it his 
duty, and he may well reckon it his precious privi- 
lege, to afford relief to the necessities of others. 
And this, like everything which belongs to duty, 
like everything which is to be done, is to be 
done upon a plan. He is bound to make it as es- 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 165 

tablished a part of his system of life, — I do not 
say as large a part, — that is a question I do not 
touch, and endlessly modified as it is by circumstan- 
ces, it must be left to private consciences, — but he 
is bound to make it as essential a part of his sys- 
tem of life, to spend from his uncertain riches upon 
others, when occasion may appear, as to draw from 
them for his own supplies. 

But bounty to the poor is not all of usefulness 
or charity, though it is far from being an unimpor- 
tant part. The great interests of a community in 
all generations, the interests of learning and reli- 
gion, especially under some forms of society, de- 
pend mainly on the patronage of the rich ; and 
here is a sphere for their munificence, of incalcula- 
ble moment. The leisure of the rich, as well as 
their money, is a trust ; and, in the various occa- 
sions for important service which arise in social life, 
and which men, burdened with private cares, cannot 
meet, the common parent seems to have made gra- 
cious provision for saving them from the shame and 
tedium of unprofitableness, and turning their pow- 
ers of being useful to good account ; and in that 
demand for some employment, which is an instinc- 
tive want of the mind, and which no possessions 
will satisfy, he seems to have furnished the needful 
impulse, to make them, in the use of these occasions, 
benefactors to their species. The rich too have the 
deepest stake in the welfare of society ; they are 
able, other things being equal, to do most to advance 
it, and without their co-operation others can do at 
best but little ; and all these considerations should 



166 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

be so many motives, to engage them in the tasks of 
a disinterested and active public spirit. They honor 
themselves in the best sense, when they benefit 
their associates with the recorded labors of their 
minds. Thus to use their freedom from meaner 
tasks to widen the knowledge, or adjust the princi- 
ples, of the society where they live, is a most be- 
coming and praise-worthy ambition. Everything is 
useful and commendable which confers happiness 
without consequent injury ; and the rich are privi- 
leged, in being able largely to confer it in ways 
which cost them nothing, — nay, which advance 
their own happiness meanwhile. From them a word 
or look of condescension or courtesy is to depen- 
dents a valued gift, and the deportment which is 
not regardless of such kindnesses does its part in 
the all comprehensive duty of beneficence. Such 
kindnesses are the right of inferiors. They are be- 
coming in him who renders them, and the giver 
here is never known to be a loser. A rich man's 
influence is a trust with him, which often he may 
cheaply use in rendering substantial favors. Coun- 
sel which he is able to give, or some trifling appro- 
priation of time and thought, which it is well for 
him to spare, may often relieve a perplexity, or 
prevent a serious harm. And, to make an end of 
suggestions under this head, which occur in such 
abundance to every mind that it would be hard to 
find an end, the importance of his example in all re- 
spects is never to be lost sight of. Integrity and 
disinterestedness witnessed in him, sympathy with 
others' fortunes and feelings, self-denial and frugal- 



DUTIES OF THE RICH. 167 

ity, modesty and moderation, dilligence and affabil- 
ity, attention to all interests which he can serve, 
his readiness to every good word and work, will 
commend themselves to a general observance, and 
make him extensively a benefactor in the blessings 
they will spread. Such a power to recommend 
one's own practice is a great endow T ment. To use 
it well is the way to a distinguished crown. 

The final clause in our text, ' laying up in store for 
themselves a good foundation against the time to 
come,' has much perplexed the commentators, on ac- 
count of a supposed incongruity in the figure which 
it presents ; and they have even ventured to suggest, 
that the text has in the lapse of time been corrupted 
in this place, and that the apostle wrote what, trans- 
lated, we should read, laying up in store for them- 
selves a good treasure, or deposit. But it seems 
to me that the language, as we have it, rightly ren- 
dered, is altogether appropriate, and remarkably 
condensed and forcible. I understand the apostle 
as saying, charge the rich not to trust in uncertain 
riches, but to do good with them, to be rich in good 
works, and so on, so that what they lay up in store 
for themselves, — what they amass, — instead of 
being a stumbling block to their feet, as else it might 
prove, maybe to them a good foundation, — or as we 
should say, a good stepping stone, — upon which they 
may rise to lay hold on eternal life. And here, my 
friends, we have the compensation of those spiritual 
dangers to which wealth no doubt exposes. It 
spreads its toils, but no one, passing among them, 



168 DUTIES OF THE RICH. 

is compelled to be ensnared by them ; and if he 
escape, the greater is the merit of his circumspec- 
tion ; and, on the other hand, it imparts peculiar 
powers, which, rightly applied, will enable one to 
become an eminent servant of God, and benefactor 
to his species, — to rise to a post of conspicuous 
and extensive usefulness, whence to lay hold on eter- 
nal life. No one should envy the rich. Every one 
may find service enough to please God with, in the 
place where his lot is cast. Every one may have 
enough for happiness without wealth, and no one 
can be sure for himself that he is competent to 
withstand its trials. But none are more enviable 
than the rich, when they have grace to resist 
the temptations incident to that condition, and to 
make its benefits available for the more thorough 
culture of their own spirits, the more manifest ex- 
hibition of the power of the faith of Jesus, and 
the more extensive service in that work in which 
all good beings are agents of the divine benevolence. 
Happy above other men, they who are thus able to 
acquit themselves of this very serious trust ! We 
are told, my hearers, of a blessing of God, which 
' maketh rich, and addeth no sorrow therewith.' It 
is no other than that, which makes riches the instru- 
ment of such effects. May that excellent blessing 
from above attend each one of you, my friends, who 
are subjected to this trial, that, diligently laboring 
through this life to lay up the better treasure for 
yourselves, you may be found at last abundantly 
rich towards God, and be sharers in the inalienable 
inheritance. 



SERMON XII. 



NATURE, FOUNDATION AND BENEFITS OF 

FRIE ND SHIP. 



PROVERBS XVIII, 24. 

A MAN THAT HATH FRIENDS MUST SHEW HIMSELF FRIENDLY. 

That Christianity permits its disciples to indulge 
no enmities, is a truth very well understood. That 
it also discourages them from cherishing friendships, 
is an opinion which to many of my hearers will ap- 
pear extraordinary, but it is an opinion nevertheless 
which has been advanced upon high authority. The 
author * of a treatise, on some accounts valuable, on 
the internal evidences of our religion, in maintaining 
the proposition, that ' every moral precept founded 
on false principles is entirely omitted from it,' has 
referred to active courage, patriotism and friendship 
as examples. Of the latter, with which we are 
now concerned, he says, that ' it could never gain 
admittance among the benevolent precepts of Chris- 
tianity, because it is too narrow and confined, and 

* Soame Jenyns. 

22 



170 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND 

appropriates that benevolence to a single object, 
which is here commanded to be extended over all.' 

This doctrine I propose at the present time briefly 
to examine, and so to proceed to the questions, what 
friendship is, in the proper acceptation of the word ; 
with whom a christian may contract it, and what are 
some advantages it promises. 

I. The doctrine, as far as it is an argument 
against the lawfulness of a christian's contracting 
partial friendships, you perceive is founded on a the- 
ory and an assumed fact ; the theory, that friendship 
appropriates that benevolence to a single object, 
which Christianity commands to be extended over 
all ; the fact, that friendship has not gained admit- 
tance among the benevolent precepts of that reli- 
gion. 

1. As to the former, it proceeds on the ground 
that it is of the nature of the partial affections, to 
counteract the more comprehensive ones which 
Christianity enjoins; an assumption quite incapable 
of being maintained. The truth is, that, in the na- 
ture of things and in the plan of providence, the 
affections must first be directed to near objects, that 
they may be exercised, and acquire strength, to ex- 
tend themselves vigorously to the more remote. 
There may be, no doubt, an excessive devotion to 
one or a few objects, which, engrossing the mind, 
leaves room for no other ; and this, in the view of 
our religion, is criminal. But, though an expansive 
affection may thus be excluded by partial ones, it 
absolutely cannot exist without them. Universal 
philanthropy is the outer circle of kind regard, 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 171 

which is only to be formed by the successive expan- 
sion of those of family, kindred, friendship, neigh- 
borhood, and country, which are comprehended 
within it. Domestic society is the nursery of the 
affections, whence, having acquired sufficient matu- 
rity, they extend themselves into a wider, and still 
a widening sphere, and, the further they spread, the 
greater vigor do they afford evidence of having ac- 
quired. But it is in vain for a man to pretend that 
he loves all mankind, unless he loves his kindred 
and his associates still more, because they have all 
the claims on his regard, which belong to them as a 
part of mankind, — a part of the race which he 
professes to love, — and, additional to these, they 
have the peculiar claims, more or less strong, which 
belong to them as sustaining the specified distinctive 
relation. 

So much for the reason of the case. And it is 
equally a great misapprehension of the rules of our 
religion, to suppose that, in inculcating a universal 
love, it forbids discrimination as to the degrees of 
that love ; which would do no less than frustrate the 
wisdom of providence, which, in appointing the va- 
rious connexions of life, has provided for our being 
peculiarly disposed to serve those, to whom our ser- 
vices may be easiest rendered and are most impor- 
tant. The happiness of our families depends most 
upon us ; this it is most in our power to promote ; 
and therefore the affections of kindred are made 
the strongest. After them, we are most able to 
serve our habitual associates ; and accordingly habit- 
ual intercourse is made to quicken in us a benevo- 



172 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND 

lence of the next degree of intensity. And, after 
our associates, our country ; and therefore, in our 
friendly sympathy, our country takes the next rank 
below. The larger bond of a common nature does 
not bring the multitudes whom it comprises by any 
means so much within our reach ; and accordingly 
we are so made as to feel the impulses to beneficent 
action, which belong to it, still less. There is 
danger that we shall not feel them at all, and shall 
too readily suffer occasions of variance to overpow- 
er them ; and, for that cause, the duty of uni- 
versal charity is strongly enforced by our religion. 
But while it teaches us to love all men, — - and while, 
I scarcely need stop to say, it recognizes the princi- 
ple that a proposed benefit to mankind at large, may 
well be of a magnitude to outweigh all more private 
regards, — it does not assume to defeat the wise 
arrangements of providence in our constitution, by 
insisting that we love all men alike. On the con- 
trary, St Paul's injunction of the most comprehen- 
sive charity, — to do good unto all men as we have 
opportunity, — is coupled with the qualifying di- 
rection, to do it * especially unto them that are of 
the household of faith ;' and the same apostle passes 
a censure of peculiar severity on them who provide 
not for their own, and especially for them who 
are of their own house, speaks of men ' without 
natural affection,' with an intimation of the pecu- 
liarly aggravated character of their selfishness, and 
insists repeatedly on the obligation of ' brotherly love,' 
in distinction from that of a wider charity. Thus 
certain partial, — not exclusive nor narrowing, but 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 173 

partial affections, — are evidently countenanced and 
required by express terms of scripture ; affections, 
whose relation to a universal charity is precisely 
similar to that of what we commonly call friendship. 
The former, as much as the latter, require so to be 
indulged, and so to be regulated, as not to interfere 
with the obligation to a universal good-will. But 
as natural affection and the rest are not condemned 
by Christianity, on account of any tendency of that 
sort, — but the contrary, — no more is such a con- 
demnation uttered or implied of friendships founded 
on voluntary association of any innocent kind. 

2. As to the fact adverted to, in the argument 
under our notice, namely, that Christianity does not 
in terms inculcate friendship, it might be replied, — 
what every reader of the New Testament may be 
supposed to know, — that this circumstance proves 
nothing conclusively against any practice, which 
claims to be considered a virtue. It would be an 
entirely unauthorized assumption, that it was the 
object of Christianity to furnish in itself alone a 
thorough code of circumstantial rules ; and that, ac- 
cordingly, everything not expressly recommended 
in the New Testament is of course no virtue, and 
everything not verbally denounced there, of course 
no sin. A complete statute-book of morals was not 
what men chiefly needed. The light of nature still 
showed them, in the main particulars, what their 
duty was. But it did not sufficiently impress the 
strength of the obligation to do their known duty. 
It failed of furnishing sufficiently efficacious sanc- 
tions. That is to say, in the department of sanctions 



174 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND 

rather than of instructions, — of motives rather than 
rules, — lay the chief existing deficiency, which, in the 
system of moral discipline, Christianity had to supply. 
In respect of some virtues, it is true, the sentiments 
of men were rude or erroneous ; and, to meet this 
exigency, it stated such with precision, and enforced 
them with emphasis. The duties of humility, for- 
giveness of injuries, and government of the thoughts, 
are instances. But as to others, it was, for the most 
part, content to urge in general terms attention to 
' whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are 
honest, whatsoever things are pure, lovely and of 
good report,' forbearing from the superfluous task of 
defining what were things honest, pure, just, and 
lovely. Does any one doubt, for example, that grat- 
itude to benefactors is a duty ? Yet where does the 
New Testament inculcate it ? May it be maintained 
that suicide is not a crime ? Yet can any one show 
the passage, where the New Testament forbids it ? 
Its instructions, as was to be expected, were in 
some degree occasional, having reference to the 
moral condition and needs of those to whom they 
were addressed. In some of the persons, for whom 
St Paul wrote, natural affection was feeble ; and his 
language tended to fortify it with the sentiment of 
duty. In some of those to whom our Lord spoke, it 
was on the contrary so strong, as to prevent that en- 
tire devotion of themselves which his cause demand- 
ed ; and them he taught, 6 whoso loveth father or 
mother more than me, is not worthy of me. 5 It is 
wrong needlessly to offer ourselves to sufferings and 
death; and the wiser christians of the second century 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 175 

had to use all their authority to hinder their more en- 
thusiastic brethren from such uncalled for exposures. 
But not so during our Saviour's ministry ; indiffer- 
ence then needed to be stimulated, not undue 
warmth to be checked, and his language was, ' he 
that will come after me, must take up his cross 
and follow me.' Whatever habits, then, of affec- 
tion or conduct, were, at the time of the promulga- 
tion of our faith, either unduly or sufficiently in re- 
pute, assuredly the fact that it does not expressly 
inculcate cannot be pleaded as proof that it discoun- 
tenances them. And this was at that time the case 
with friendship. Men did not so much need to be 
encouraged to cultivate it, as to be prevented from 
cultivating it to the prejudice of a more expansive 
charity. 

But while this remark shows, that there is no 
foundation of the kind supposed for the argument 
we are combating, its benefit might be waved, in 
the present instance, because no one perhaps has 
ever maintained that friendship is a virtue. The 
philosophical ancient who has treated of it, uses 
the guarded language, that ' friendship seems to be 
a kind of moral habit of mind.' This is justly said ; 
because friendship arises from good feelings, and 
prompts to good actions. But it cannot be said to 
be every good man's duty to enter into this relation ; 
and therefore we could, in no case, have a right to 
expect to find a precept to that effect in the christian 
code. If a christian were entirely solitary, he could 
not form a friendship. If he lived only among bad 
men, he ought not to form one. Even if he lived 
among good men, whose pursuits and whose senti- 



176 NATURE. FOUNDATION AND 

merits were in important points different from his own, 
he would be in no condition to form one. The con- 
tracting of a friendship is in its nature a voluntary 
thing ; not a dictate of universal duty, and therefore 
not a demand of religion. But still, so far from dis- 
countenancing friendships, Christianity does, we may 
say, all that a system for universal use could do, for 
their encouragement. 1 1 disposes us to them, by excit- 
ing us to mature to their utmost vigor those kind and 
generous affections, which, as they are matured, will 
infallibly attach themselves, with peculiar strength, 
to persons between whom and ourselves there exists 
a peculiar congeniality of sentiment, and opportunity 
for frequent intercourse. It gives them authority 
in the language and example of Jesus Christ. His 
language recognized that relation, as one which he 
himself did not refuse to sustain. ' Ye are my 
friends,' he said to his disciples, l if ye do whatso- 
ever I command you.' ' I say unto you, my friends, 
be not afraid of them that kill the body.' ' I no lon- 
ger call you servants, but I have called you friends.' 
It is recorded of him that ' Jesus loved Martha, and 
her sister and Lazarus;' the bystanders interpreting 
his emotion on the way to Lazarus' tomb, said, 'be- 
hold how he loved him ;' and repeatedly, in his own 
gospel, St John is distinguished by the title of { the 
disciple whom Jesus loved.' Once more ; in the 
relation of intimate friendship, as in several other 
relations of life, the parental, for instance, and the 
conjugal, our religion, while it does not require 
us to form it, gives us light concerning the prin- 
ciples on which it must be formed, if at all, and 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 177 

the duties which, being formed, it imposes on us. 
If it does not pronounce that every man must have 
friends, all its inculcations of faithfulness to obliga- 
tions, which we have assumed, will, in an application 
to this case, go to sustain the sentiment of our text, 
that ' a man that hath friends must shew himself 
friendly.' 

II. But it is time that we proceed to the second 
proposed subject of remark. 

Friendship may be denned, attachment matured 
by frequent intercourse. Attachment is essential to 
it. There are numerous vicious combinations, in 
which the individuals united seem animated by one 
mind, and act together with a strenuous co-operation; 
but the only feeling called forth in them is selfish, 
and not only has nothing to do with friendship, but 
has been repeatedly seen to be consistent with the 
most violent animosities, which were only restrained 
or disguised so far as not to endanger the common 
object. There are associations of convenience, in 
which men seek the advantage of each others' aid 
for the promotion of the lawful interests of all ; but 
associations of this kind, though among kindhearted 
men they not seldom lead to friendships, are not 
themselves such. It needs not be said that it is 
no friendship, which animates him who seeks to in- 
gratiate himself with another, for the sake of the 
benefits which the pretence of friendship may obtain 
for him. To be the object of such false professions, 
is one of the painful compensations of the lot of 
the prosperous. * The rich,' says the wise man, 
' has many friends ;' but he means friends of this 
23 



178 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND. 

description. * Wealth maketh friends, and every man 
is a friend to him that giveth gifts.' There are per- 
sons, to whom the title of summer friends has been 
applied ; who without any such directly sordid view 
to the promotion of their interest, attach themselves 
to the prosperous and eminent for the indulgence of 
their vanity, in seeming to be in credit with such 
persons, or load with favors and attentions those 
who are coming forward into notice, to signalize 
themselves as the patrons of rising merit. Such 
individuals are not without their use, but it would 
be a gross abuse of language to call them friends. 
They are a kind of thermometer, by which one 
may know the temperature of the public feeling 
towards him, their assiduities with exact regularity 
subsiding or rising as that feeling grows cool or ar- 
dent. There is again a feeling of satisfaction in 
the agreeable qualities of another, which unjustly 
claims to be called friendship. If we so value his 
powers of giving pleasure, whatever they be, that 
we should not be willing to dispense with them 
when such a privation of ours would be for his good, 
we show plainly that we are not his friends but 
merely our own. Friendship then is real attach- 
ment. The word may be used in a loose sense 
for attachment in general ; but, in strictness of 
speech, it is attachment matured by frequent inter- 
course, for it is not a single emotion, but a habit of 
feeling, and though we may be said to be friends to 
those with whom we have little or no intimacy, this 
is not, as is well understood, in a precise application 
of the term. I add here only that there seems no 
reason for representing friendship as some have 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 179 

done, as a bond uniting two persons only. There 
is nothing so exclusive in the nature of the con- 
nexion ; nor does it impose any duties which inter- 
fere with one another, when extended to a larger 
number. 

III. What does a sense of duty urge in regard to 
the choice of friends ? 

In respect to this, religion does not assume an 
impelling, but merely a regulating and restraining 
power. We may choose an associate with reference 
to the good qualities which we discern in him, and 
the benefit we think we may derive from his intima- 
cy, and this associate may in time become our 
friend ; but we cannot from such considerations 
choose a friend, for the affections submit to no such 
dictation. Attachments are the spontaneous growth 
of the heart ; and though they are likely to be di- 
rected to worthy or unworthy objects according as 
the heart is well or ill disciplined, still they are ex- 
cited, not so much by any reasoning or calculation 
upon the benefits to be derived from them, as by 
congeniality of taste and feeling, habits of inter- 
course, and other circumstances of inferior moment. 
The proper office of religion then in regard to the 
choice of friends, is to restrain us from giving way 
to our inclinations when they would lead us to form 
injurious connexions. 

There are not many maxims of greater practical 
use, than that ' evil communications corrupt good 
manners.' The influence of a friend upon our char- 
acter is exceedingly powerful. We are continually 
subject to his persuasions, imbibing his sentiments, 



180 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND 

and acquiring prepossessions in favor of all of which 
he sets us the example. No truly religious person, 
then, will think of contracting a voluntary intimacy 
with one, whose character differs widely from that 
at which he himself is aiming. He will see that 
the wise king's rule, ' make no friendship with an 
angry man, and with a furious man thou shalt not 
go, lest thou learn his w r ays and get a snare unto 
thy soul,' has no less force when applied to other 
vices than when restricted to that of anger ; and he 
will be scrupulous to make no friendship with habit- 
ual transgressors of any class, lest, which is too 
probable, he should learn their ways and get a snare 
unto his soul. He will not be persuaded by any- 
thing to deviate from the great rule, to choose his 
friends only among the good. 

2. It is desirable, again, that our friendships, be- 
sides being favorable to our characters while they 
exist, should be lasting, because commonly much 
pain, and too often much irritation, is felt when they 
are dissolved. It is accordingly the dictate of pru- 
dence, and therefore, in a substantial sense, of re- 
ligion, to the young, to form their friendships with 
those, from whom, as far as they can anticipate, 
they are not likely to be separated by dissimilarity 
in the condition and pursuits of after life. A neg- 
lect of this rule, among persons whose ardent affec- 
tions and inexperience of the world will not admit 
the idea that any diversity of fortune can ever affect 
their confiding intercourse, is continually the prep- 
aration for much disappointment and distress, when 
estrangement in the common course of things takes 
place on one side, and upbraidings follow on the 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 181 

other. And to the same end of providing that our 
friendships may be intimate and uninterrupted, it is 
important to form them with persons whose feelings, 
opinions, tastes, and connexions have to a consider- 
able extent a correspondence with our own ; for no 
very cordial intimacy can long subsist, where occa- 
sions of contradiction and interference are often 
arising, or dissimilar calls of interest or duty per- 
petually interpose their estranging claims. And 
these are considerations of great weight in favor of 
the comparative worth of those friendships, which 
are cherished within the circle of kindred. 

The author of the apocryphal book of Ecclesias- 
ticus well insists on the wisdom of choosing a friend, 
according to such rules, with deliberate caution. 
' Be in peace with many,' he says, ' nevertheless 
have but one counsellor of a thousand. If thou 
wouldst get a friend, prove him first, and be not 
hasty to credit him. For some man is a friend for 
his own occasion, and will not abide in the day of 
thy trouble. And there is a friend, who, being 
turned to enmity and strife, will discover thy re- 
proach. Again, some friend is a companion at thy 
table, and will not continue in the day of thy afflic- 
tion. But in thy prosperity he will be as thyself, 
and will be bold over thy servants. If thou be 
brought low, he will be against thee, and will hide 
himself from thy face. Separate thyself,' that is, 
as to interchanges of confidence, — ' from thine en- 
emies, and take heed,' — that is, in the choice, — 
' of thy friends.' 

IV. What advantages may we promise ourselves 
from a friendship formed upon these principles ? 



182 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND 

There is scarcely anything earthly, my hearers, 
from which we may expect so many. I cannot re- 
count them, for, as its Roman eulogist almost without 
exaggeration said, < we have hardly more contin- 
ual occasion for fire or water, than for friends.' 
In youth, a friend's kindred enterprise animates us 
in the course we begin together. In manhood, he 
cheers us by his sympathy, and guides us by his 
counsel. In age, we tell over together the fortunes 
we have passed, and our spirits are tranquilized and 
refreshed by that generous communion. In perplex- 
ity, we relieve our burdened minds in making him 
the partner of our hopes and fears, prospects and 
solicitudes. In good fortune, we are doubly happy, 
because he rejoices in our happiness. In adverse 
circumstances, half the pangs that threatened are 
warded off from us, because he divides our grief. 
We form our plans with the knowledge that, in 
executing them, we shall not be reduced to depend 
on our own powers alone. We take hazards, sure 
that should we come into peril, there is another 
mind watchful for our rescue. We fear reverses 
less, knowing that, till they shall have overwhelmed 
another also, they will not be permitted to fall with 
an unrelieved weight upon ourselves. We are less 
in dread of the scourge of the tongue, when our 
good name is not left to our own unaided vindication. 
But it is not by any means for its favorable influence 
on the circumstances of life alone, that we are to set 
a high value on a worthy friendship. It meets those 
demands of the heart, which, silent though they be, 
are the most importunate of all. What the world 



BENEFITS OF FRIENDSHIP. 183 

sees of men's resources for happiness is of very little 
account, compared with what is required to meet the 
necessities of their better nature. Friendship ad- 
mits men to the elevated pleasures of confidence, to 
the happiness of unsuspicious affectionate commu- 
nion with congenial minds ; and thus it supplies a 
craving no less natural, than the demand of the 
physical appetite for food. It is of higher worth 
than has yet appeared. It is a powerful instrument 
for the religious culture of the soul ; nor can any 
man be said to enjoy all possible advantages relating 
to his spiritual welfare, who has not some religious 
friend with whom he is accustomed to ' take sweet 
counsel, and walk to the house of God in company ; 5 
with whom he has been used to an interchange of 
thought and feeling on the subject the most cherish- 
ed in the hearts of both ; to whom he instinctively 
resorts for aid and guidance, for approbation and en- 
couragement ; by whose example he is himself con- 
firmed ; by the imparted fruit of whose reflections 
and experience he is himself enriched ; who has led 
him to love the ways of wisdom better for hav- 
ing trodden them in his society, and thus truly 
found them to be paths of pleasantness and peace ; 
with whom it is his dearly cherished hope that he 
may continue to be united in a strict friendship 
through eternity. Seen in this light, it is little to say 
of a virtuous friendship, that it is one of the choicest 
blessings that cheer our pilgrimage of life. The im- 
mortal mind owns its excellent culture ; and heaven 
will mature its precious fruits. The son of Sirach 
spoke no more than its value, when he said, ' change 



184 NATURE, FOUNDATION AND 

not a friend for any good, by no means ; neither a 
faithful brother for the gold of Ophir.' ' A faithful 
friend is a strong defence, and he that hath found 
such a one hath found treasure. Nothing doth coun- 
tervail a faithful friend, and his excellency is inval- 
uable. A faithful friend is the medicine of life, and 
they that fear the Lord shall find him. Whoso fear- 
eth the Lord,' — he continues, with a repetition of 
that moral of weighty meaning, — ' whoso feareth 
the Lord, shall direct his friendship aright.' 



SERMON XIII. 



DUTIES OF FRIEN DS. 



PROVERBS XVIII, 2 4. 

A. MAN THAT HATH FRIENDS MUST SHEW HIMSELF FRIENDLY. 

The instruction comprehended in these words is 
of great interest to any, who are so happy as to 
sustain the relation with which it is concerned. 
The man that hath friends must be strangely insensi- 
ble to his privilege, if he do not earnestly desire to 
deserve and secure it by showing himself friendly. 
Those of us, then, my hearers, who are distinguish- 
ed by that choice gift of a gracious providence, will 
be disposed to an attentive consideration, to which I 
now invite you, of the duties which are thereby de- 
volved on us. I propose to add a few words re- 
specting the occasions which justify the dissolution 
of a friendship, and the course which, after such a 
dissolution, it becomes a good man to pursue. 

1. The offices of friendship are in general no 
other than the various offices of benevolence. We 
owe to a friend all the kindness which our nature 
and our religion prompt us to cherish, and as far as his 

24 



186 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

and our situation may admit, all the useful services 
which they prompt us to bestow ; help in his under- 
takings ; sympathy in his joys and sorrows ; relief 
for his wants ; care for his virtue ; defence, counsel, 
candor, courtesy. But the relation of friendship 
affords opportunity for a peculiar cultivation of those 
generous affections which are due to all men, and 
in some respects their exercise is modified by it ; so 
that, in speaking of the obligations of friendship, 
we are chiefly to attend to those particulars, in 
which they may be more or less distinguished from 
the general obligations of benevolence. 

1 . Thus, friends show themselves friendly by the 
practice of a mutual confidence. 

The reposing of confidence, it is plain, is not a 
demand of that charity which is due from us alike 
to all our brethren of the human family. We are 
not obliged to trust our affairs, — secrets they could 
not then be called, ■ — to the knowledge of bad men, 
enemies or strangers. But confidence is one among 
appropriate tokens of affection united with esteem ; 
and, unless we are in the habit of extending it with 
freedom to those whom we have chosen from all 
the world, professing to entertain for them a special 
attachment and respect, we show a distrust which 
is unkind, and inconsistent with our profession. 
That reserve by which we imply that a friend might 
make a bad use of what we should communicate, 
and by which we keep it out of his power to render 
us sympathy or aid, is unjust, and to a mind of sen- 
sibility is wounding. 

But here there is a caution needed. In order to 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 187 

be confiding, we are not to be treacherous. We 
are not to trust to one friend, what another, not ex- 
pecting this, has trusted to us. This duty is apt to 
be forgotten in the ardor of inexperienced friend- 
ship. But it is beyond a question, that it is only of 
our own secrets that we have a right thus to dispose. 
Those which concern another, are that other's prop- 
erty, and it is no excuse to him for communicating 
them, that we believed we were trusting them in 
safe hands. The same remark may be made of 
information which reaches us discreditable to anoth- 
er, apart from any pledge of secrecy. Reasons 
may exist for divulging it. But the confidence 
which a friend rightly expects from us, is not one 
of those reasons. It is one of the many wise 
precepts of the apocryphal book, which 1 had occa- 
sion to quote in treating another branch of this sub- 
ject, 'whether it be to a friend or foe, talk not of 
other men's lives, and if thou canst without of- 
fence,' — that is, without doing a wrong, — ' reveal 
them not. If thou hast heard a word, let it die 
with thee, and be bold, and it will not burst thee.' 
But the communication to a friend of what is not 
disclosed to others, is only one among many fit 
marks of the confidence we place in him. It only 
shows our confidence in his discreet reserve. We 
should show our confidence in his upright judgment, 
and interest in us, by resorting to him for advice. 
If the sentiments we profess for him are sincere, 
we shall naturally do this ; and friendship is much 
grieved and discouraged on the one side, when, on 
the other, such confidence is withheld. We should 



188 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

prove that we trust his affection, by reluctance, and 
refusal within the limits of prudence, to listen to 
reports of what may seem inconsistent with it. 
The whisperer, that ' separateth chief friends,' 
should meet no welcome from us. It is cruel to 
lend a ready ear to what may be told us to a friend's 
disadvantage, and scarcely anything tends more 
surely to estrange him. We should show a confi- 
dence in his constancy to us, by not insisting to mo- 
nopolize him to ourselves. There are persons 
whose fondness is of that exacting sort, that they 
cannot bear to see a friend admitting any other to 
his intimacy. The course, which they are apt to 
take, almost ensures the evil which they fear ; for 
jealousy of a friend betrays a want of reliance upon 
him which leads to dissatisfaction, if not resentment, 
while a manly trust in the attachment which we 
value, shows our consciousness of deserving it, and 
may well knit it in inseparable bonds. Once more, 
we should testify our sense of the worth of our 
friends, by promptly accepting the evidences of their 
good will, and freely having recourse to them when- 
ever they can serve us. To a generous mind no 
mark of confidence is more acceptable than this. 

2. I observe, secondly, that, if a man that hath 
friends would show himself friendly, he must habit- 
ually afford to those friends the benefits of his best 
judgment. 

He must not only give them his advice in all sin- 
cerity, when they ask it. So much he ought to do, 
according to his opportunities, for the most indiffer- 
ent person. But he should attentively consider 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 189 

their circumstances, and watch their conduct, that 
so he may have the whole subject before him, and 
be able to profit them by the wisest counsel of which 
he is capable. And he should not wait to have it 
solicited. The relation which he sustains author- 
izes him, and calls upon him, to offer it whenever it 
may be useful. And very far is he from being jus- 
tified in withholding it, because for the moment it 
may give pain. To blame is the hardest office of 
friendship, but it is the kindest, and that which 
above all makes friendship valuable, and effectually 
tests its truth. ' Bitter enemies,' says the Roman or- 
ator, * are of more use than those friends who to 
some men seem kind ; for the former often tell the 
truth, the latter never.' ' Faithful,' as we are assur- 
ed on a higher authority, ' are the wounds of a 
friend.' ' Thou shalt not hate thy brother in thine 
heart, thou shalt in any wise rebuke thy neighbor, 
and not suffer sin upon him ;' these are words of 
divine wisdom. And they teach emphatically that 
to practice the false kindness of some pretended 
friends, — to attempt to secure another's regard, by 
flattering his faults or forbearing to blame them, 
while our relation to him gives us the privilege, — 
is to plot against his highest interest, is an act of 
most mischievous enmity, instead of what with 
weak people it sometimes passes for, an evidence of 
devotion. A true friendship is a principle generous 
enough to be bold. It will not, for fear of an hon- 
est word being ungraciously received, leave a friend 
exposed to all the loss, shame, censure, and future 
self-condemnation, which his misconduct may occa- 



190 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

sion. A christian friendship looks to consequences 
more remote and more important than these. It 
has regard to the everlasting destiny of its object. 
If it can do anything to promote his spiritual im- 
provement, his religious well-being, it accounts this 
incalculably the most important service it is capable 
of rendering. A friend not afraid to reprove us is 
the best of all benefactors. A flattering friend is 
the worst of traitors. His sycophancy is like the less 
delicious cup of guilty appetite ; ' at the last, it bit- 
eth like a serpent, and stingeth like an adder.' 

But with all this, my hearers, there is an important 
sense, in which the declaration is true, that ' he 
that upbraideth his friend breaketh friendship.' A 
fault-finding spirit is by no means to be cultivated in 
friendly intercourse. It is to be our settled purpose 
to ' please our neighbor for his good to edification, 5 
but we are never to neglect that part of this duty 
which consists in pleasing him. We are studiously 
to provoke him, ' to love and good works,' but all 
other provocation we are to shun. We are to be 
carefully observant of opportunities, and inventive of 
methods, to offer our counsel so as to make it least 
offensive, and most effectual to the end in view. 
We are strictly to avoid everything that looks like 
assumption ; everything that seems to betoken a 
sense of superiority. And we are not to be officious 
and captious in our censure. A disposition to see 
conduct in its most unfavorable aspect, is one of the 
least tolerable qualities in a friend. It is an office 
of friendship to pass over some things which are 
not such as it might wish. Perhaps they are mis- 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 191 

apprehended. Perhaps they are owing only to tem- 
porary causes, and will not be repeated. Perhaps 
remonstrance will only aggravate them. We ought 
not to have chosen, for our friend, one in whose con- 
duct we only find perpetual occasion for complaint, 
and, whether well founded or not, we may be sure 
that before long such complaint will alienate him 
from us. Fidelity in short requires that, where his 
good is seriously concerned, we should not hesitate 
to express our disapprobation ; but our regard for 
him will dispose us to an indulgent judgment ; it will 
prevent us from setting down everything as wrong 
which does not immediately approve itself to us ; 
it will lead us to study the most affectionate methods 
of expostulation, where to expostulate seems our 
duty ; and it will urge us strictly to avoid that quer- 
ulous temper which, like the constant dropping that 
1 weareth away stones,' will in time wear out the 
firmest friendship. 

3. To show ourselves friendly, we must be disin- 
terested and devoted in active endeavors for a 
friend's welfare. 

We must give him our society, exerting ourselves, 
in all proper ways, to make it agreeable and im- 
proving to him. Is he in a situation to be benefited 
by any use, which we are free to make, of our for- 
tunes or our influence ? We should be prompt to 
place it at his disposal. 4 Do good unto thy 
friend before thou die, and according to thy ability, 
stretch forth thy hand unto him.' Is his reputation 
assailed ? We are his advocates. We are guilty 
of a most shameful meanness, if we listen without 



192 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

contradiction to the clamor raised against him, be- 
cause it would be unpopular to oppose it. Our re- 
lation to him demands of us to interpose our own 
credit in society, if we have any, for his shield ; and 
when no such exigency occurs, our duty requires us, 
as proper opportunities present themselves, to ex- 
press the respect and attachment we entertain for 
him, and so communicate, as we may, our sense of 
his worth to others. His objects in life may be the 
same as our own, and thus he may be in a situation 
to be brought into comparison or rivalship with us. 
But let us not pretend to call ourselves his friends, 
if we find ourselves capable of indulging towards 
him any feeling of envy or of jealousy ; if we are 
not conscious of heartily lamenting his reverses, 
and rejoicing in his success. Does sickness visit 
him ? It should be a strong call of duty in some 
other direction, that separates us from his side ; and 
in his house of mourning we should be frequent and 
familiar guests. In short, we should follow the vi- 
cissitudes of his lot with a tender fellow feeling, 
and an ever watchful readiness to alleviate its hard- 
ships, and multiply its joys. 

It is perhaps scarcely necessary that I should add, 
that our obligation to serve a friend abrogates none 
of the positive and permanent rules of duty. We 
may not serve him by encroaching on another, or 
doing anything unworthy of ourselves, or offensive 
to God. A principle so plain did not escape the 
discernment of Pagan moralists. ' We ought,' says 
Plutarch, ' to co-operate with a friend in virtuous 
actions, but not in vicious. We should take counsel 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. J 93 

with him, but not in projects of mischief. We 
should maintain the truth with him, but not a false- 
hood. We should share in his fortunes, but not in 
his crimes.' 

4. To show ourselves friendly, we must learn to 
practice forbearance towards a friend. 

We must be exceedingly inexperienced, if we 
suppose that there will never be occasion for this. 
As long as we expect to have a perfect friend, it is 
certain that we do not know how to secure a good 
one. The great reason, why friendships are so 
short lived, is that altogether too much is commonly 
expected from them. Not only the young, but 
some persons who are not very young according to 
a computation of years, are apt to indulge very ro- 
mantic and unfounded imaginations on this subject. 
They seem to expect to find their friends always in a 
transport of affection ; and when they are disappoint- 
ed, they blame their friends, when they only ought 
to blame their own foolish expectations. A perfect 
friend must be a perfect man, a being whom we 
shall doubtless seek long before we find. Prudence 
and justice, as well as affection, bid us make mod- 
erate claims upon those whom we love. If at times 
they are reserved, if at times they seem unjust and 
unkind, has anything extraordinary happened ? Does 
this prove anything more, than that, being men, 
they are not angels ? And if we insist that we will 
have no friends, but such as are free from human in- 
firmities, do we not then condemn ourselves to live in 
a solitude of the affections ? Supposing our friend even 
to be what we may choose to call fickle, in respect 

To 



194 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

to demonstrations of the sentiment he professes, that 
is, showing less appearance of strong interest at one 
period than he had done at another. It does not 
therefore follow, that we must forthwith renounce 
him. This is the part of a proud and hasty, not of 
a meek, a wise or a generous man. To reproach 
him with unfaithfulness will be much more likely to 
disgust and estrange him, than to recall him to his 
former fondness. It is much better to anticipate the 
probable occurrence of such fluctuations of feeling, 
and to pass them over, when they do occur, without 
notice. To remark upon them must unavoidably be 
to create embarrassment and restraint, if not coolness. 
To overlook them, leaves free and full opportunity 
for the returns of warm affection. The weakness 
which calls itself sensibility will take the former 
course, and because it cannot bear a slight, will, by 
its petulance, provoke an animosity. The man- 
liness, which values a friendship too much to hazard 
it for the indulgence of a pitiful resentment, will adopt 
the latter, and it will probably soon be rewarded by 
seeing the attachment, which it has so well merited, 
revive. Above all things to be avoided, when a friend- 
ship seems to be on the decline, is an assertion of our 
claim to it on the ground of kindnesses which we 
have rendered. To insist on being the object of 
gratitude has not only no tendency to awaken, it 
has an absolute tendency to repel it. It is not in the 
nature of man to be excited to affection, by being 
reminded on the part of a benefactor of the benefits 
to which it is due ; and if it were otherwise, no one, 
who has a proper sense of character, would be will- 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 195 

ing to extol his good deeds, to substantiate a claim 
for an affection, which those good deeds have failed 
to kindle. ' It is odious,' says the Roman whom I 
have already quoted, ' to make demands on the 
ground of favors we have bestowed. It is the part 
of him on whom they w r ere conferred to remember; 
not of him who rendered, to commemorate them. 
There are some,' he continues, ' who make friend- 
ships irksome, by their suspicions, that they are un- 
dervalued ; but this rarely happens, except to those 
who are conscious that they are little worthy of re- 
gard.' 

5. To show ourselves friendly, we must, once 
more, be constant to our friends. This is a particu- 
lar expressly referred to in the context, where a 
friendship is spoken of, more faithful even than w r hat 
belongs to the fraternal relation, itself one of the 
closest among equals which providence has instituted. 

If friendship is worth anything, it is a sentiment 
strong enough to be superior to changes of fortune, 
to the separation of distance, and to the wearing 
power of time. Have we, in the course of a pros- 
perous life, been elevated to a sphere above that 
which once we filled ? We are not so fortunate that 
w T e can afford to resign an early friendship ; for all 
our prosperity has brought us nothing so valuable. 
On the contrary, we should rather prize it, because 
it has conferred on us the power of communicating 
happiness, where we have always desired to see 
happiness abound. Has the lot of our friends been 
disappointment and perplexity ? They have only 
greater need of our kind offices, and we ought to 



196 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

be only the more ready to bestow them. 'There 
is a companion who rejoiceth in the prosperity of a 
friend, but in the time of trouble will be against him. 
But forget not thou thy friend in thy mind, and be 
not unmindful of him in thy riches.' ' A friend loveth 
at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.' 
Are they, in the course of events, so separated from 
us as to forbid the privilege of frequent interviews ? 
It can scarcely be so remotely, that ways are not open 
to keep up our friendly interest in one another ; and 
no opportunities of doing this should be neglected, 
for such a tie is well worth all the pains we may 
take to keep it from being severed. Has much 
time passed, since that tie was formed ? It 
ought only to make it closer. Good affections are 
not of the things, over which time exerts a destroy- 
ing power. Year, as it follows year, ought only to 
give them new tenderness and strength, and estab- 
lish them on the continually wider and wider foun- 
dation of grateful recollections of mutual kindness 
c Forsake not an old friend, for the new is not 
comparable to him. A new friend is as new wine ; 
when it is old, thou shalt drink it with pleasure.' 
We are not even to abandon a friend, because he has 
been faulty. If he has been betrayed into error, he 
only experiences the greater want of that kindness, 
which shall soften for him the censures of the world, 
take him by the hand to lead him anew into the 
paths of wisdom, speak to him the language of en- 
couragement, reconcile him to himself, and excite 
him anew to effort. 

II. And this brings me to speak, in a word, of occa- 
sions which justify the dissolution of a friendship. 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 197 

Being a mutual bond, it is liable to be dissolved 
without our will. Our friend may, not in our im- 
agination, but in reality, grow weary of us. While 
we take care to deserve that his regard should be 
continued, we cannot insist that it shall be so ; and 
it is in his power to compel us, painful as it may be, 
to change the affection of intimacy for that of dis- 
tant good will. But we are not to make such a 
separation our own act, without sufficient rea- 
sons ; because this would be an unfaithfulness to 
the engagements of friendship, and it would prob- 
ably inflict pain, such as a benevolent man ought 
to be very reluctant that any one should suffer 
through his means. 

These sufficient reasons are chiefly of two kinds. 
We may, and we ought to separate ourselves from a 
friend, when he has palpably transgressed towards 
us the obligations of friendship. And this, not so 
much because the implied covenant, which is mutual, 
is thereby broken, but because we can no longer en- 
tertain for him that esteem, which is the needful 
basis of friendship *, because we can no longer with 
safety repose in him that confidence, which, as long 
as we acknowledge him for a friend, he has a right 
to expect from us ; and because there is too 
much reason to fear, that what has passed has beyond 
repair destroyed, or at least chilled and blunted those 
delicate and cordial feelings, by which alone the 
ends of friendship are to be served. In short, it is 
time for the relation to cease, when the duties be- 
longing to it can no longer be fulfilled. And we 
may and ought, again, to separate ourselves from a 



198 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

friend, when he has palpably separated himself from 
virtue. For we are not to expose ourselves to the 
fatal contagion of evil sentiment and example in 
this its most subtle form ; and, hard as the sacrifice 
of a friend may be, it should be less hard to us than 
the sacrifice of our integrity, or of what amounts to 
much the same, our needful securities for maintain- 
ing it. 

But, let it be remembered, we are to interpret 
these rules not lightly nor selfishly ; but deliber- 
ately, generously, conscientiously. We are not to 
renounce a friend, merely because he has given us 
occasion to complain of some light offence. Such 
offences, he who has rightly considered the infirmi- 
ties of nature sees that he has reason to expect, and 
he who knows the value of a sincere friendship will 
not think it worth his while to lose it by resenting 
them. An engagement to bearwith them must needs 
be considered as implied in the forming of such a 
connexion. If we refuse to bear with them, we 
show ourselves wanting in two of the attributes of 
friendship that have been named, forbearance and 
fidelity ; and it is not our friend's inconstancy, as we 
pretend, but our own, which is in fault. And so of 
the less deviations of a friend from virtue, such as 
do not imply habitual depravity, nor a dereliction 
of virtuous principle. The friendship we have pro- 
fessed for him is hollow indeed, if we desert him 
as soon as he begins to fall ; if, because the worst 
of danger threatens him, we forsake him and flee ; 
if we abandon him, when perhaps his tie to us is 
his only, and might be made his effectual tie, to credit 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 199 

and to virtue. If we do this because we are dis- 
pleased, then our angry passions are stronger than 
our benevolence, in a case where this ought to pos- 
sess a peculiar power. If we do it because we 
fear we might be lowered in the world's esteem by 
continuing such a connexion, then there is no name 
of contempt which we do not richly merit. In gen- 
eral, the more a friend has need of us, the more he 
depends upon us, the more our friendship may profit, 
and our estrangement harm him, the more reluctant 
should we be to be driven by his misconduct to such 
an issue. 

III. Finally; whenever, by a painful necessity, 
that tie has been dissolved, the obligations, which lay 
on us, are by no means all released. 

Though friendship ceases, the charity, which all 
men justly claim, is by no means to cease with it. 
Though the freest communications of love are ter- 
minated, it is not the visitations of hatred that are 
to replace them. Though confidence is no longer 
offered, still it must not be betrayed. It may be 
that some misapprehended act has been the cause of 
the disunion, and that, when an opportunity for ex- 
plaining it comes, and the tranquilizing influences 
of time have prepared the resentful spirit to admit 
the explanation, the smothered attachment may re- 
vive ; for it is hard to keep forever asunder hearts 
which have once been trained to beat in thorough 
harmony. Such an opportunity should be patiently 
waited for, and when it occurs should be readily 
embraced. And where there seems little hope of 
this, and causes more beyond the reach of peace- 



200 DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 

makers have led to the division, still, on every ac- 
count, because we are willing to leave room for the 
healing influences to be exerted, which events, be- 
yond our conjecture, may bring, and because, if we 
lay no stress on this, we yet wish to be faithful to 
our own dignity and duty, — because we intend to 
be upright, if we cannot be affectionate, — let us 
most strictly avoid increasing the irritation which 
exists, by needless recrimination, unqualified or con- 
temptuous reproach, or any breach of the confidence 
to which the connexion now renounced, admitted 
us. These are the death-blows of wounded friend- 
ship. ' If thou hast opened thy mouth against thy 
friend,' that is, in the hasty censure of an unguarded 
moment, ' fear not, for there may be a reconcilia- 
tion ; except for upbraiding, or pride, or disclosing 
of secrets, or a treacherous wound, for for these 
things every friend will irrecoverably depart. 5 ' If 
thou bewrayest his secrets, follow no more after him. 
For as a man hath destroyed his enemy, so hast thou 
lost the love of thy neighbor. Follow after him no 
more, for he is as a roe escaped out of the snare. 
As for a wound, it may be bound up, and after re- 
viling there may be reconcilement, but he that 
bewrayeth secrets is without hope.' He is without 
hope, not only of relenting feelings on the part of 
him who was once his friend, but of being ever 
again the object of that confidence from any one ? 
which, whenever friendly feeling ceases to guard the 
trust, he has shown himself thus capable of abusing. 
' Whoso discovereth secrets, loses his credit, and 
shall never find a friend to his mind.' — A friendship 



DUTIES OF FRIENDS. 201 

once valued, however dissolved, can never be re- 
membered without profound feeling, by a generous 
mind. Such a mind can never be gratified to hear of 
the calamities or disgrace of the unworthy and discard- 
ed friend. Still it will follow him with a lively 
interest, rejoicing in what it may learn of the happi- 
ness, lamenting what it may know of the griefs, of 
the heart with which it once so loved to sympathise. 
It will cherish no superfluous displeasure. It will 
admit np animosity. It will think of the friend- 
ship lost as of a precious departed blessing, and 
will feel no disposition to revile its memory. This 
it will esteem due to its own delicate feelings; for it 
cannot cast out to utter shame what had once been 
enshrined almost like a holy thing in the sanctuary 
of its love. This it will think the least expression 
it can offer, — and that too on one of the worthiest 
occasions, — of that charity which suffereth long and 
is kind, which thinketh no evil, which rejoiceth 
not in iniquity, which covereth a multitude of sins, 
which beareth all things, which hopeth all things, 
and which never faileth, though prophecies fail, 
tongues cease, and knowledge vanish away. 



26 



SERMON XIV. 



DOMESTIC UNITY 



PSALM CXXXIII, 1. 

BEHOLD, HOW GOOD AND HOW PLEASANT IT IS, FOR BRETHREN TO 
DWELL TOGETHER IN UNITY. 

These words express the happiness of a house- 
hold, united in the bond of a mutual affection. 

I. This sentiment of domestic affection it cannot 
be necessary to attempt formally to define, since, 
whatever peculiarity there may be thought to be in 
its origin, there is no prominent characteristic to 
distinguish it from other forms of friendship in its 
nature or expressions. It is, the friendship which 
is mutually entertained by members of the same 
family, prompting them to rejoice in, and advance, 
each other's welfare. It is the principle of generous 
sentiment and action, which is continually manifested 
in the intercourse of the watchful parent and duti- 
ful child ; the affectionate brother and sister, hus- 
band and wife ; the faithful domestic and consider- 
ate master. It is the spirit of that household, 
where each member is jealous for the reputation, 
and careful of the comfort, happy in the success, 



DOMESTIC UNITY. 203 

and grieved at the disappointments of the rest ; 
where each has advice, aid or encouragement, as 
the case may be, at the command of eacli ; where 
protection is studiously extended on the one side, 
and gratitude cordially cherished on the other. It 
is the spirit of that home, which in thought we are 
continually revisiting, however far away from it we 
may be called in providence to wander ; where we 
are sure of a fond remembrance in our absence, and 
a joyful welcome at our return. 

Thus much with regard to the character of unity 
among brethren dwelling together, is sufficiently 
understood. It needs more particularly to be ob- 
served, that, in its most thorough exercise, domestic 
affection is to be proved by something more, than a 
readiness to perform services, or even to encounter 
sacrifices. In the case of this, as of many other 
commendable habits of sentiment and conduct, that 
which may seem the merely negative part, is still 
the most difficult and the most rare. It is easier 
and more common, to show kindness in great things, 
than to refrain from unkindness in what may seem 
trivial. It is not unusual to see those, whose sincere 
and strong attachment to the inmates of their home 
is altogether beyond dispute, who it is plain would 
prove their affection at great cost and hazard, whose 
services are continually anticipating the occasion for 
them, and are never wanting to it when known, — 
yet who, for want of attention to the important re- 
mark which has been made, are continually, by 
some negligence of deportment or irregularity of 
temper, causing uneasiness to the objects of their 



204 DOMESTIC UNITY. 

regard, which, if offered from any other source, 
they would be the readiest to repel. It is perhaps 
natural for us to suppose, that the sentiment, which 
we are conscious to ourselves of truly cherishing, 
will reveal itself in all our conduct without any cau- 
tion of ours. But experience shows that this is a 
hasty, and in many instances a false conclusion. 
And this being so, it becomes us to take strict care 
that our thoughtless conduct do not injustice to our 
sentiments, and misrepresent, and seem to contra- 
dict, the emotions w 7 hich we feel. In proportion as we 
love our friends, it certainly imports us to be watch- 
ful not to make a contrary appearance. It is not 
our services for which they often have occasion, but 
for those evidences of good will which have no other 
value, and for which occasion is perpetually occur- 
ing. By a delicate affection, a harsh tone or a 
clouded countenance is felt like a wound ; and 
cheerful looks, kind words, and obliging actions are 
certainly not too great a price to pay for an attach- 
ment which we value. Even if it should cost us 
some self-restraint, there is motive enough, one 
would think, to induce us to practice it. 

II. This leads us to speak, in the second place, of 
the reasonableness of cultivating this spirit of do- 
mestic unity. 

1. And the first consideration which I suggest to 
this point is one, the truth of which needs no de- 
fending, that, next to a quiet conscience, a quiet 
home is the principal and most secure resource of 
every man's happiness. It is that, without which 
other favorable circumstances of external condition 



DOMESTIC UNITY. 205 

are able to confer a very superficial pleasure, and 
with which many of them may well be dispensed 
with. Far ' better is a dinner of herbs where love 
is, than a stalled ox and hatred therewith.' It is 
little even to be the wonder and envy of the crowd, 
if w T e know that, when we retire from it, it must 
be to meet caprice, suspicion and reserve ; and the 
tasks that await us abroad are not hard to be borne, 
if we are assured that a true sympathy follows us 
to our toils, and that affectionate assiduities will 
cheer our fatigue, and an affectionate pride and joy 
congratulate our success. Let no man ever willing- 
ly think of a happiness, distinct from the happiness 
of his home. The gayest must have their languid, 
sick, and solitary hours. The busiest must often relax 
their labor, and there must be some retreat for them, 
where they may seek refreshment from their cares, 
and collect the spirits that disappointments so fre- 
quently depress. They who live the most for the 
public, still live for the public but in small part, and 
they are apt to find the public service a heavy bur- 
then which gentler encouragement than that of am- 
bition must furnish the strength to support. He 
who would secure to himself one place of retirement 
from the difficulties and solicitudes that certainly 
await him, and the injustice that probably may, must 
find it in an affectionate home. And in proportion 
as we feel our dependence upon it for our own hap- 
piness, we ought to feel our obligation to make it 
happy to others. Do we think that we ought to 
find there a contrast to the indifference or opposition 
to which we are liable elsewhere ? Let us be careful 



206 DOMESTIC UNITY. 

to exhibit there ourselves the amiable dispositions, of 
which we expect to experience the benefit. Do we 
own that the least evidence of domestic good-will 
is important to us ? Let us habituate ourselves to 
the exercise of a watchful, considerate, and ready 
kindness. Are we aware, that, in anxious or sus- 
ceptible moods of mind, we are liable to be pained 
by inadvertencies or omissions, which at another 
moment would have given us no concern ? Let us take 
it for granted that others are compassed with the 
same infirmity, and as we wish it to be tenderly 
treated in ourselves, be attentive on our own part to 
cause to appear, in the minutest particulars, the sen- 
timents which we entertain. If, in an unguarded 
moment, a hasty expression approaching to unkind- 
ness should be uttered, it is the best office of pru- 
dence to overlook it. 4 A soft answer, ? said the 
wise man, ' turneth away wrath, but the beginning 
of strife is as when one letteth out water. 5 A vent 
once opened, it cannot be known how soon the 
stream may become a torrent. 

2. The consideration that on domestic unity de- 
pends domestic quiet, is not only one of great weight 
in itself, but it assumes a high religious importance, 
when we consider that home is the nursery of every 
man's religious sentiments. We go out into life to 
act upon our principles, but it is at our homes chiefly 
that they are imbibed and cultivated. The world 
besets us with temptations ; and though we by no 
means leave all behind, when we retire within the 
domestic circle, we yet escape from many of the 
most threatening. The world presses us with cares, 



D O M E S T I C UNITY. 207 

occupies us with novelties, disturbs us with its 
follies, and deceives us with its show. If anywhere 
we can find calmness and leisure for religious self- 
discipline, it must be at our homes ; and if even 
there our minds cannot be collected and placid, if 
there too anxieties must possess, and opposition 
weary us, if there too the conflict with the spirit of 
discontent must still be carried on, our task is tenfold 
arduous. It is at our homes, if anywhere, that 
we read, meditate and pray ; and it is not the 
least blessed power of a quiet and affectionate home 
that it favors these offices of devotion. He is truly 
to be pitied, not only for the discomfort which he 
suffers, but for the cloud which is brought over his 
religious prospects, who finds the influences of his 
fireside uncongenial with the exercises of his closet ; 
who does not find that spirit excited in communion 
with his family, which he desires to carry to com- 
munion with his God. 

3. As it is in the retirement of a peaceful home 
that all our christian principles and affections must 
be fixed, so, once more, it is there peculiarly that 
our benevolent sentiments must first take root, and 
receive their most important culture. The domes- 
tic affections are the most spontaneous of all. It 
is in the family circle that the attraction of kind 
dispositions is first revealed to us ; that we first 
become acquainted with the satisfaction that is de- 
rived from loving and serving others, and acquire a 
relish for it ; and it is not to be supposed that the 
heart, in which the affections of kindred are cold and 
feeble, should glow with a more comprehensive 
charity. We cultivate the benevolent temper by 



208 DOMESTIC UNITY. 

cultivating the habit of attention to the welfare 
of others ; and this habit, like every other, needs 
to be kept alive by constant exercise, no less in 
small things than in great. To exist at all, then, it 
needs to be continually cherished, where most of 
our time is passed, at our homes ; and when it 
exists in such vigor, as to cause us to be scrupulously 
watchful there, to communicate pleasure and avoid 
giving pain, on the most common and trifling occa- 
sions, as well as the more important and rare, we 
have then been through that discipline of mind, 
which fits us for a more enlarged benevolence ; we 
have a right estimation and true taste for the better 
feelings of our nature ; our hearts are attuned to 
sympathy with all our kind. Let us cherish the 
benevolent dispositions at our homes, then, because 
it is the dispositions which we have cherished there, 
that we take thence with us to the more public 
scenes of life. And let us not think it of little con- 
sequence to cultivate them even on the least occa- 
sions; for the dispositions, in which the trivial con- 
cerns of life have left us, are of course the disposi- 
tions which we bring to its more important cares, 
and according as these latter find us in a disturbed 
or a gentle frame, will probably be the testimony 
which they will more publicly give, to the advantage 
or discredit of our charity. 

III. Lastly, how is this excellent temper of fra- 
ternal unity to be formed ? 

Passing over more superficial methods, I proceed 
at once to that which the apostle Peter proposes, 
when he enjoins on us to 'add brotherly kindness to 



DOMESTIC UNITY. 209 

godliness.' The domestic affections, in their fit 
purity and strength, are to be built upon and grow 
out of the religious, as their basis and root. 

It is only a sense of religious obligation, and 
the gentle, but steady power of the religious spirit, 
which can operate so constantly, and penetrate so 
deep, as to secure the performance of those little kind 
offices of perpetual occurrence, the neglect of which 
has a most threatening aspect upon domestic friend- 
ship and enjoyment. We can summon from various 
sources resolution to perform a single conspicuous 
act of usefulness ; but to a course of duties, whose 
importance consists in the undeviating regularity 
with which they are discharged, and the firmly es- 
tablished temper of mind which they indicate, there 
is nothing but religion able to excite us. If religion 
be thought the most important agent in preserving 
the peace of a community, not less necessary can it 
be to maintain the order of that less division in the 
social system, a family, — where, if dissension once 
gain a footing, the occasions for it are of more fre- 
quent repetition, and where the maintenance of quiet 
and happiness depends on dispositions lying deeper 
in the heart, and requiring a far more delicate cul- 
ture. The domestic affections are in such harmony 
with the religious, that each is essentially weakened 
by the absence, and strengthened by the union, of 
the other. Without cultivating the religious affec- 
tions, indeed, it does not appear how any one can 
set a consistent example, or consistently claim to 
be the object, of the domestic. For with what 
color can we demand obedience or regard, when 

27 



210 DOMESTIC UNITY. 

we ourselves neglect to render it where it is most 
due ? And how greatly incomplete must be our 
own appreciation of those good feelings which we 
affect to value, when the constant kindness of our 
father in heaven awakens but languid emotions in our 
hearts. 

The religious character of a family, is the relig- 
ious character of the individuals who compose it • 
and this, no doubt, requires to be in chief part formed 
by separate self-discipline. Yet I will just name 
two practices, which are of essential use in cher- 
ishing that domestic religion, which is the main se- 
curity for domestic union and happiness. The first 
is, the habit of domestic religious instruction. The 
communication of religious knowledge, by such 
means, to the minds of those who are subjects of di- 
rect instruction, all important object as that is, is 
by no means the only object thus secured. The 
benefit is experienced by the teacher as well as 
by the taught. His own religious convictions are 
made distinct, and strengthened, in the effort to con- 
vey them to another mind. His own sense of 
their worth is exalted, while he considers and urges 
their importance ; and he sees a great added reason 
for valuing them, when he thinks on the influence, 
which he hopes they are to exert on the present 
and future happiness of those to whom he imparts 
them. A religious man has an additional tie to his 
home, when it is connected in his mind with those 
religious thoughts and feelings, which most of all 
he prizes ; and a religious family have a new tie to 
one another, because to their sympathy upon other 



DOMESTIC UNITY. 



211 



subjects they add sympathy upon that, which inter- 
ests them most of all. A more complete under- 
standing and confidence than can otherwise subsist, 
is established between those in whose mutual com- 
munications religion has its proper part. There is 
nothing which so affects and attaches a devout pa- 
rent, as the religious promise of his child ; and, on 
the other hand, there is no other emotion of filial 
love so warm and sacred, as is felt when, in a sea- 
son of difficulty, sorrow, or temptation, the princi- 
ple that sustained us is remembered to have been a 
parent's lesson. 

The other practice, to which I alluded, is that of 
family devotion. It does not belong to my subject 
to expound the reasonableness of this service, and 
urge that they who enjoy blessings in common 
ought to acknowledge them together, and that if a 
family, as well as a larger community, or an indi- 
vidual, has interests peculiar to itself, those interests 
should be commended to God's blessing in domestic, 
for the same reason that the others are in public 
and in secret prayer. Nor is this the occasion to 
enlarge on the fervor and pleasure of that devotion, 
in which united hearts are lifted in united prayers to 
him that ' maketh men to be of one mind in a 
house.' I do no more now, than submit to your 
reflections the thought, what an advantage for cul- 
tivating the gentle and generous affections that fam- 
ily must possess, who are in'the habit of assembling, 
day by day, to remember their common necessities 
and dependence ; to acknowledge their common in- 
firmities, and implore the divine grace to forgive 



212 DOMESTIC UNITY. 

and reform them ; to think of the goodness of their 
common Father, the claims of their common Lord, 
the abundance of their common blessings, and the 
use of their common griefs. Nothing short of a 
detailed consideration would do any justice to the 
extent and importance of the subject. Yet I could 
not consent wholly to pass it by, in a connexion 
which so naturally suggests it, and in approaching 
towards a season, of which we commonly avail our- 
selves as the most favorable occasion for forming 
new resolutions, and entering upon the prosecution 
of new plans of life. The practice of domestic 
devotion, whenever begun by any family, will prob- 
ably be begun at some such season as the begin- 
ning of a year, in consequence of a previous pur- 
pose and arrangement. And greatly should I have 
cause to rejoice, if it might be the effect of this 
suggestion, to lead some who hear me to adopt, in 
an application to this office of family religion, the 
resolution of Joshua, ' as for me and my house, we 
will serve the Lord. 5 

Finally, my friends, religion, the great, the uni- 
versal principle of union, is the main agent in caus- 
ing brethren to dwell together in unity. There is 
nothing like religion, to make different minds sym- 
pathise, different efforts co-operate, different inter- 
ests coalesce. If we would be happy in the world, 
it must be through her encouragement. If we 
would be happy in solitude, it must be in her soci- 
ety. If we would be happy at our homes, it must 
be under her influence. Cornelius is said in the 



DOMESTIC UNITY. 213 

Acts to have been ' a devout man, and one that 
feared God with all his house.' What a vivid pic- 
ture of domestic happiness does this simple state- 
ment present ! Who would not be sure that love 
and peace were tenants of the dwelling of Corne- 
lius? The affections that belong to the domestic 
sphere are indeed well worth cherishing to those, 
who believe that these few years of life are not to 
terminate their exercise ; that the pure attachments 
of this world are to be matured in the long friend- 
ship of eternity. Godliness claims of the mind 
which it possesses to give it brotherly kindness for 
its companion ; and they have- a motive to walk with- 
in their house ' with a perfect heart,' who believe 
that, thus walking hand in hand, they shall be, in a 
better sense than that, in which the words were 
spoken of Jonathan and Saul, * lovely in their lives, 
and in their death not divided.' 



SERMON XV, 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES 



EPHESIANS V, 33. 

LET EVERY ONE OF YOU IN PARTICULAR SO LOVE HIS WIFE EVEN AS 
HIMSELF 3 AND THE WIFE SEE THAT SHE REVERENCE HER HUSBAND. 

In a course of remarks on the obligations which 
belong to different relations and circumstances, I 
could not be justified, if, for any reason, I should 
omit to consider the duties of a relation, so eminently 
important as the conjugal ; a relation the most inti- 
mate which men mutually sustain, and, in the fulfil- 
ment or neglect of its duties, involving consequen- 
ces more momentous than any other, unless we 
make an exception for that of the parent to the 
child. 

In classifying these duties, the most general dis- 
tinction, which strikes us, is between such as belong 
to the parties in the conjugal relation severally, and 
such as belong to them alike. 

I. To the former class let us first attend. 

1 . The distinctive duty of the husband is, a suita- 
ble provision for the wife's maintenance. 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 215 

The indications of providence which assign to 
him this duty, are so express, that, though disregard- 
ed in the oppressive license of the savage state, in 
all civilized communities they furnish the fundamen- 
tal rule for arranging the occupations of social and 
domestic life. The husband's duty in this respect, 
along with the reasons on which it is founded, ex- 
tends to the use of all proper means w r ithin his 
reach, to furnish a competent support, and answer 
reasonable expectations. He must be industrious, 
not suffering himself to be incapacitated for industry 
by intemperance, nor interrupted in it by any other 
vice, or folly, or care ; and he must be frugal in the 
gratification of personal tastes. The maintenance, 
which he owes, is due not only to the present time, 
but by parity of reason to the future. It is his 
duty, not with a discontented anxiety, or distrust of 
God's providence, but with a prudent forethought, 
to endeavor that all its resources shall not cease 
with his own uncertain life. The kind of mainte- 
nance which is to be reckoned competent, and accor- 
dingly what aright conscience dictates to be afforded, 
is to be determined, as in all such cases, by the 
practice of that rank in society to which the parties 
belong, qualified, if need be, by the individual's own 
ability. Without undertaking to meet indiscrimi- 
nately demands of caprice or ostentation, provision 
is however to be made, not for expenses of necessity 
alone, but also, — subject to the limitation just 
now stated, — for expenses of convenience, of taste 
and of charity. And this rule should have a liberal 
interpretation. One must have little relish indeed 



216 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

for giving way to others, purely for the sake of 
making them happy, if he is not willing to go thus 
far, for the individual whom he has chosen from all 
the world to be his nearest friend. The wishes, 
which in this respect may be expressed, are not to 
be strictly, far less to be captiously canvassed. As 
such, they claim a respectful and delicate allowance. 
In the strength of her affection, the wife has made 
great sacrifices, for what, with the best prospects, 
is an uncertain good. She has left l her own peo- 
ple, and her father's house, 5 — mother, brethren and 
sisters, — the endearments, and security, and quiet, 
and independence of the household hearth of her 
childhood, to go and place her first confidence in a 
stranger, and assume for his sake responsibilities 
untried and weighty. And it is little for her to ex- 
pect, that all shall be done, which a ready generosity 
can do, to lighten her cares, and compensate to her 
the indulgences which she has forsaken. At the 
home of another's providing, almost all of her time 
must now be spent. Should it not be his study to 
provide for it every comfort and attraction ? She 
must needs be the partner of his poverty. Is it not 
just that she should be the equal partaker of his 
abundance ? 

2. The distinctive duty of the wife on the other 
hand, is that of obedience ; a duty so explicitly, 
one might say so exclusively, in this relation, incul- 
cated in the christian scriptures, that it would be 
impossible to pass it by. ' Ye wives,' says Peter, 
'be in subjection to your own husbands. The or- 
nament of a meek and quiet spirit is, in the sight 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 217 

of God, of great price.' ' Wives, submit yourselves 
unto your own husbands,' says Paul, ' as unto 
the Lord.' ' As the church is subject to Christ, so 
Jet the wives be to their own husbands in every- 
thing.' 

The necessity of such precepts, regulating the 
wife's duty on the one part, might be inferred from 
what has been already said of the husband's duty on 
the other. Divine laws, — nor human either, when 
they are just, — never impose an obligation, without 
at the same time conferring the authority, which may 
be needful to empower one to discharge it. When, 
therefore, they make the husband responsible for 
providing a maintenance, they by necessary conse- 
quence invest him with the right of arranging and 
regulating that provision ; which right extends so far 
among the details of domestic order, as itself to be 
almost coincident with the right of exercising a con- 
trol in all things innocent. Again, since, deplorable 
as that event would be, it is still possible that two 
separate wills may exist in a family, and since it is 
impossible that both should go into effect, and since 
both cannot be maintained without a collision which 
will distract a household with the worst disorders, 
and cause children and servants, in the uncertainty 
where their obedience is due, to give it nowhere, it 
seems necessary to be determined, by a general rule, 
which will, in such a possible competition, shall 
prevail ; and in this, as in other cases, the existence 
of the rule, will, in the great majority of instances, 
prevent occasions for its application, from arising. 
In any community, larger or smaller, equal authority, 

28 



218 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

without a common superior, is the very definition of 
anarchy ; which, though, where good feeling prevails, 
it may exist without mischief, is, as an institution, 
altogether an unsafe one to rely upon. And this 
precedence, so necessary to be established on one 
part, seems necessarily also to be vested in that party, 
to which human laws in fact attach it. It is indis- 
pensable to be possessed, in the discharge of the 
duties to which we first attended, as far as these go, 
which is very far. And, not to suppose any original 
intellectual difference, providence, in the constitution 
of the other sex, has removed them from the active 
scenes of life, and thereby restricted them in the 
performance of some duties incident to the place of 
head of a family, and in acquiring that large expe- 
rience of affairs essential to the best discharge of 
others. So that, supposing both to have equally 
good judgment and intentions, he in whom the first 
trust is actually reposed, seems to be the most likely 
to be qualified to administer it, the most for the 
good of all. And though, in many cases, the rule 
may operate unequally, subjecting the good and ju- 
dicious wife to a control inferior to that of her own 
discretion, yet this is but an unhappiness to which 
all rules are subject; some protection is afforded 
against the hurtful operation of this, as well as oth- 
ers, in the circumstance that the possession of au- 
thority tends to create in most minds a sense of re- 
sponsibleness and justice ; and, at all events, there 
is no alternative, for it would be impossible to make 
an exception in any case, without bringing back in all 
cases those evils of strife, which the rule was insti- 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 219 

tuted to abate, sinee if the one party ceased to be 
entitled to obedience, as often as the other was 
wiser and better, what a vexatious question to be 
agitated would here be introduced. And, indeed, 
the cases where it may operate the most oppressively, 
are the cases where it can least be dispensed with ; 
for a meek and quiet spirit may mollify an angry 
temper, while opposition would only provoke it into 
fury, and surely frustrate its own aim. 

' The christian scriptures,' says Paley, the great 
authority of the age in questions of casuistry, 
' enjoin upon the wife that obedience, which in the 
matrimonial vow she promises, in terms so peremp- 
tory and absolute, that it seems to extend to every- 
thing not criminal, or not entirely inconsistent with 
the woman's happiness.' Unwilling, however, to 
impair the force of the remarks I make, by appear- 
ing to assume anything on the ground of sex, and 
preferring therefore to leave that question to the 
good sense of that portion of my hearers, whose 
consciences its decision is to bind, I w r ill touch upon 
it no further than to say, that the obedience due in 
different relations is a different thing, and that the 
nature of the obedience, proper to each, is to be de- 
termined by the nature of the relation to which it 
belongs. The submission of a subject differs from 
that of a servant, that of a child again from both, 
and that of a wife from all. Nor is anything hu- 
miliating implied in the obligation to obey. For 
the sake of the great mutual benefits to be obtained 
by a settled subordination, every member of the 
community is subject to that obligation in some form 



220 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

or degree ; and in the form in question it might 
seem less obnoxious than in others, because in this, 
unlike others, it is voluntarily contracted for, and 
if a man ought not to marry till he sees that he 
can maintain, no more ought a woman till she knows 
that she can obey. Nor is the rule founded, as the 
brief exposition which I have given of its principles 
has shown, on any supposition of natural inferiority, 
moral or mental. Nor, if such a case can be sup- 
posed, does it give any right to the preferred party, 
to presume on the preference, which is vested in him 
for the good of both. It would be as preposterous 
in the husband, to be elated by the power which he 
possesses to cause his will to be regarded, as it 
would be in the wife, to be boastful of the power 
which she equally possesses, to consign her husband 
to prison with the debts of her extravagance. Nor 
does, 1 scarcely need say, the rule which requires 
submission in the wife, at all justify capricious com- 
mands, or offensive coercion in the husband. If 
disobedience is wrong on the one part, doubtless 
positiveness and unreasonableness are no less wrong 
on the other. The truth is, the rule is for extreme 
cases, and a rule for extreme cases ought to be set- 
tled and known, because then they are much less 
likely to occur. The question of authority is one, 
which in practice ought not to arise. In the family 
which is governed by good principles, neither will 
rule in any obnoxious sense ; but right reason will 
decide, and true affection harmonize, the wills of 
both, and so the one will of both will prevail. 

II. We proceed to duties belonging to both par- 
ties in the conjugal relation alike. 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 221 

1. The first is, that mutual fidelity, which is the 
distinctive obligation of the marriage bond. 

If the subject could be pursued, there would be 
no denouncing in too strong language the flagitious 
sin, which violates that obligation ; a sin, which in- 
volves the most odious perfidy, and inflicts the most 
inconsolable distress, and provokes to deeds of the 
most desperate violence ; the very suspicion of 
which is fraught with discord, and misery, not only 
to the parties directly concerned, but to unoffending 
children ; which utterly depraves the moral nature, 
destroying the sense of shame and honor, to say 
nothing of more spiritual sanctions ; and which, if it 
were to become common, — which every transgres- 
sor takes his full share of the wickedness of help- 
ing it to become, — would reduce the human to 
mere brute life. If there are considerations which 
seem to give the crime a somewhat blacker enormi- 
ty in one of the parties to the matrimonial contract 
than in the other, there are others also tending to 
reverse that decision ; and if it were not so, the 
comparison would little deserve to be insisted on, 
since if more or less detestable and mischievous in 
one, it is sufficiently so in either. 

But the fidelity which belongs to this relation is 
of a more delicate kind, than is practised in a mere 
literal keeping of the seventh commandment. If 
the affections be suffered to wander, its obligations 
are not fulfilled, though no charge of unchastity be 
pretended. Its demands are satisfied by nothing 
less than a paramount attachment. I do not say, 
an exclusive attachment. The ties of kindred, 



222 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

though they become subordinate, are not dissolved 
in contracting those of marriage ; there is no such 
interference between our happiest relations. Nor 
are friendships forbidden to be maintained or to be 
formed. But to yield to another the first place, in 
the affections which have been already pledged, or 
knowingly to incur any risk of doing this, is un- 
doubtedly a breach of matrimonial faithfulness. 
The husband or the wife reasonably expects to stand 
highest in the regard of the individual, in whom his 
or her highest confidence is reposed. Whoever, 
husband or wife, — for though, in the poverty of our 
language, the words which are used can denote but 
one, the remark of course applies equally to both, — 
whoever is obliged to see that there, where his own 
best esteem is due and is paid, and those requitals 
which the heart demands are looked for, the opin- 
ions of some other are more regarded, and the soci- 
ety of some other more sought than his own, cannot 
but feel that a grievous wound is inflicted on his 
peace, and a heavy cloud has settled on his way. 
And, unless he have more than common self-com- 
mand, the irritated expression of this feeling will 
minister occasion of mutual discontent, and perhaps 
aggravate the evil which excites it. Though other 
friendships may be indulged, then, fidelity in this 
most intimate relation requires that they be kept 
subordinate to the friendship which this relation im- 
plies ; and every kind of levity, however otherwise 
harmless, which might lead to uneasiness or distrust, 
is, on that account, for duty's and for interest's sake, 
to be scrupulously shunned. Elsewhere, where in 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 223 

the assuming of the bond in question, inclination is 
customarily sacrificed to interest, or to what is call- 
ed duty of some other kind, the lesson to be enforced 
would be, that, when assumed, it should be cheer- 
fully and honorably worn ; that inclination should 
be forced, and duty made pleasure ; and that, as 
part of the discipline to this effect, all exposures to 
a transfer of one's first regard, where it was not 
due, should be watched, and all associations which 
might tend to this be carefully avoided. And in a 
state of society, like our own, where there can 
scarcely be a motive for entering into the relation 
except from one's own free choice, it still deserves 
to be remembered, that the affection which was at 
first spontaneous, is yet liable to perish for want of 
care, at least that it may be made to suffer from in- 
jurious treatment; and considering how perfectly 
inestimable its worth is to another and to one's self, 
there will seem to be a sufficient motive to take 
pains for its preservation ; at all events, not to haz- 
ard its diminution, by placing it in the way of any 
temptations to inconstancy. The expectations of 
inexperienced youth, in this particular, are sanguine. 
But novelty, which passes aw r ay, has something to 
do with their ardor ; and if happily they are realized 
in the event, it will prove to be by the help of a 
maturer wisdom, which takes care to see and appre- 
ciate all that goes to establish an affectionate es- 
teem, and avoid all that might distract the senti- 
ments, which it is bound, and which it loves, to 
cherish. 

2. A second duty obligatory alike on both the 



224 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

parties to the marriage bond, is that of uniting their 
efforts for each other, and for their household, as for 
the promotion of a common cause. 

They are to remember, that, from the nature of 
the case, they now can have no separate interest ; 
that, in that partnership, whatever benefits or injures 
one, extends its effects to both ; and that accordingly 
whatever motive anv man can have to seek his own 
advantage, the same have they to consult the ad- 
vantage of each other. Children, property, friends, 
station, — reputation even, to some extent, for 
the estimation in which one is held, is partly 
transferred, and in its customary manifestations 
must needs be expressed, to the other, — -are all a 
common stock. All then should be a common care 
too. The labors of the mart, of the field, and of 
the workshop, should be seconded by the judicious 
order of the household, and the attention of the 
one be given prudently to use, what the other is 
diligently striving to acquire. Both may well give 
heed to acquaint themselves, as far as may be, with 
the peculiar cares and concerns of each ; not only 
that they may be ready with all sympathy, but that, 
on any occasion which may arise, they may be pre- 
pared to make those seasonable suggestions, or pro- 
pose that intelligent advice, which, be but the need- 
ful information possessed, come the most fully and 
most surely of all, from the individual, who, having 
interests necessarily the same with our own, is under 
an equal motive to find for us the true and the ex- 
pedient. Children are alike the honor or the shame, 
the joy or the misery of both ; and there needs to 
be the most cordial co-operation in efforts for their 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 225 

benefit, and the freest mutual communication, and 
weighing of opinions, on the methods in which 
their benefit is to be advanced. The friends of the 
one may be more attached and secured, and the 
consideration in which he is held increased, and 
his consequence and favor in the world, and of 
course his advantages in important respects, extend- 
ed, by a suitable deportment on the other's part. 
The tasks to which he is devoted, and the plans 
which he is compassing, may be greatly facilitated 
by what another can do for him better than he can 
do for himself; or, at any rate, by w 7 hat both may 
more effectually do together, than it could be done 
by either alone. Whatsoever pursuit occupies and 
interests one, demands the interest of the other. 
Advice will be wanted in its perplexities, and en- 
couragement in its ill successes and fatigues, which 
must be looked for, if anywhere, in the bosom-com- 
panion, the sharer of all one's lot, the individual who 
will sympathise with, if any will, and consult for, that 
happiness, whose sources lie deeper than in any 
array of prosperous external circumstances ; and 
in truth, there is no benefit which one human being 
can render to another, so comprehensive, as that of 
keeping him in good heart for whatever worthy 
action or service may claim him. An enlightened 
affection will be solicitous above all things for the 
honor of its object ; and honor in the christian sense 
is usefulness. All his undertakings of usefulness, 
then, it will be prompt to lighten and forward, by 
approbation, by encouragement, and by such aid as 
it may afford ; and in their success it will especially 

29 



226 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

rejoice, and feel itself dignified and rewarded. A 
meet-help, a suitable coadjutor, is the name which 
the Bible gives to one party to this relation, where 
first it is mentioned ; and, extended to both alike, 
there is no other name which could better express 
many of its duties. 

What has now been said, my hearers, is sufficient 
to satisfy us, that the duties of the relation under 
our notice are so various and important, as to claim 
a very serious consideration, and to put those of us, 
who sustain it, on the inquiry, whether we are en- 
deavoring to meet its obligations with a sufficiently 
conscientious purpose. What further suggestions 
are to be made on the subject, I defer to another 
opportunity. 



SERMON XVI. 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES 



EPHESIANS V, 33. 

LET EVERY ONE OF YOU IN PARTICULAR SO LOVE HIS WIFE EVEN AS 
HIMSELF ; AND THE WIFE SEE THAT SHE REVERENCE HER HUSBAND. 

Proposing, this morning, to consider some duties 
incident to the relation of marriage, we took notice 
of a distinction, between those which are appropriate 
to one of the parties in that relation, and others in- 
cumbent on both alike. Under the first head were 
specified, provision for maintenance, as belonging to 
the husband, and, consequent upon it, as well as for 
other reasons, the rendering of obedience as obliga- 
tory upon the wife. Under the second head, we 
attended to the obligation of mutual faithfulness, ex- 
tending to fidelity of the mind, as well as to what is 
merely personal, and then to the obligation of cor- 
dially conspiring with united efforts, in all the tasks 
and interests of life, as for the advancement of a 
common cause. 

3. I resume the subject by naming, for a third 
duty under this head, the endeavor to promote, in 



228 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

all ways, the happiness of the person with whom 
one is thus united. 

Next to those of an approving conscience, with 
which they are strictly in unison, the joys of benev- 
olence, or, as in its most concentrated form we are 
to term it, of friendship, are the most exquisite 
which belong to our nature. In the relation now 
under our notice, excluding all partial interests, for- 
bidding, when sustained in its fit spirit, those occa- 
sions to arise, which with the best management, 
may become causes of division between other friends, 
our heavenly father has taken care, that these en- 
viable pleasures may be ours in their utmost perfec- 
tion and security. Here is a sphere for the most 
unlimited confidence to be exchanged. Here, in 
the established intimacy of daily life, is the most 
unrestricted opportunity for the thoughts and the 
satisfactions, and the sorrows, and the hopes, and 
the fears of each, to be known to each, and corres- 
ponding offices of kindness to be mutually rendered ; 
in short, for all services of friendship to be done, its 
strongest devotion to be felt, its whole advantage to 
be experienced. This is the privilege of the con- 
dition. But if its privileges are not enjoyed, there 
is no middle ground ; it then becomes a condition 
to the last degree harassing and intolerable. The 
intimacy, which affords continual opportunities of 
kindness, affords also constant opportunities of strife, 
and provocatives, moreover, when provocation has 
once begun to be given. The joint management 
of interests, which must continue the same, after it 
ceases to be the same feeling in both hearts which 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 229 

overlooks them, furnishes perpetual ground of de- 
bate. The tastes which do not harmonize, find in- 
cessant occasion to jar. The unkindness which in 
one instance has been attributed, goes to color the 
construction which is afterwards put on words and 
actions of daily recurrence. Perceived, or imagined, 
it is brooded over or retorted, and has its effect on 
the deportment, which is itself in turn retaliated, 
and so on without any limit. Other friends, if cause 
of offence unhappily arises, dissolve or contract 
their relations to one another ; or, without an ob- 
servable interruption of these, in the intervals of 
their communing together a better feeling is re- 
stored. But in the intimacy of the state in question, 
there is scarcely a medium between concert and col- 
lision ; between coldness, which is always present 
to annoy, and an affectionate confidence which is 
always near to bless. And when harshness or con- 
tradiction await or invade one at the table and by 
the fire-side, it is then felt, the most keenly, that 
they are evils hard to bear. 

These considerations do not merely prove what 
is the interest of the parties to the engagement in 
question, though that indeed they manifest in the 
strongest light. They are in place where they are 
introduced, because, showing what a peculiarly 
wide difference is made in the happiness of another, 
by its being neglected or discharged, they show how 
singularly important is the duty of cultivating in 
this relation a constant, and firm, and generous, and 
delicate attachment. That spirit must not cease to 
be cultivated, even, — if it be necessary to glance at 



230 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

such a possibility, — after its object has ceased to 
be worthy to inspire it ; unless there be cruelty, or 
other great and repeated provocation, amounting to 
a virtual renunciation of the bond. Nay, within 
these limits, the more it ceases to be matter of vol- 
untary sentiment, the more it needs to be made mat- 
ter of duty. Happy, when it may be placed on the 
sure foundation of mutual esteem ; and, that it may 
have that basis to the utmost, it is a duty carefully 
to observe and ponder, and thoroughly to estimate, 
everything which is estimable in the partner of one's 
life, taking pride one's self, as far as pride is admis- 
sible, in every praise-worthy quality which is dis- 
closed. Other feelings which may belong to love, 
are liable to be transient. Without esteem, or in its 
place an extraordinary sense of duty, they certainly 
will be so ; but esteem, where ground for it exists, 
is perpetually more and more fed and strengthened. 
Time, which destroys many other things, only ma- 
tures and establishes and exalts this sentiment ; and, 
whatever may be imagined of an affection which 
reaches at once its height, deserving friends are in 
fact only the dearer to each other continually, to the 
end of life. 

The desire to promote another's happiness im- 
planted in the mind, it is scarcely needful to specify 
the forms of expression which it will take. The 
sentiment, which is energetic and infallible, may be 
left to itself to dictate these. In the various cir- 
cumstances of their changing life, they who are 
united in this closest bond of friendship, will be 
prompt to offer to each other the aid, and sympathy, 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 231 

and counsel, suitable to each. In sickness, each will 
be the other's care ; in perplexity, each the other's 
resource and guide ; in dejection, each the other's 
stay. Rich, they will be happy in each other's good 
fortune. Poor, they will be animated to patience 
by the view of each other's fortitude. Joys will all 
be doubled, and sorrows lessened by a free commu- 
nication. In their own successes, as far as they 
can be called their own merely, each w T ill hasten to 
communicate pleasure by imparting them, and re- 
ceive the congratulation which is ready to be of- 
fered ; and in successes or disappointments of the 
other, each will have prompt congratulation to be- 
stow, or a reinvigorating encouragement and sympa- 
thy. Conformity of tastes and habits w T ill be studied, 
even to the abandonment of one's own ; for a dis- 
similarity in these is fruitful in the less occasions of 
variance. The tenderest regard to feelings, and 
most respectful consideration for opinions, will be 
shown. Inclinations will not only be obeyed, but 
w 7 hen they may, anticipated ; nor will the worth of 
those little attentions, which, if they prove nothing 
else, prove what is much, a continually present and 
active kindness, by any means be overlooked. Each 
will seek to honor each in others' view, by suitable 
demonstrations before others of the respect which 
is entertained. Each will seek to reflect credit on 
the other by maintaining a worthy character, and 
even by becoming attention to such inferior recom- 
mendations, — for instance, of manners and appear- 
ance, — as tend to attract good-will ; for the con- 
sciousness that what others esteem, is ours, is one 



232 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

which the heart prizes, and to confer this happi- 
ness of a gratified and proud affection is a worthy 
and a generous aim. The good husband or wife 
will frequently reflect upon the question, by what 
change of deportment or habits happiness may be 
increased, where most the desire is to have happi- 
ness abound. Concessions and improvements which 
the securing of this object seems to demand, will 
be cheerfully made. Where intentions and feelings 
are equivocal, the best, of which the circumstances 
admit, will uniformly be attributed. Occasions of 
dispute, anticipated, will be carefully shunned ; or, 
unhappily arising, will as soon as possible be re- 
moved, or escaped from; for which is worst, — let 
any one who will reflect a moment, say, — to pro- 
voke a displeasure, or to yield an argument ? The 
most guarded forbearance and the promptest forgive- 
ness will be extended to infirmities of character on 
the other part ; for none are perfect, and to expect 
it, would be to brave for ourselves a wounding dis- 
appointment. If it be by good principles, for the 
most part, that that character is controlled, one is to 
remember that none are faithful to their principles 
throughout, and to rejoice in the reasonable hope he 
may have, that those principles before long may be 
further effectual than as yet they have been ; and in 
the worst event, — if it were otherwise, — if there 
were no such principles, — then an angry remon- 
strance would only tend to an aggravation of the 
evil. Suspicion of affection on the other part is not 
to be tolerated, but confidence in it, on the contrary, 
to be in all fit ways, both cherished and expressed ; 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 233 

for nothing discourages and estranges like distrust. 
In short, as a dictate alike of policy and of con- 
science, of interest and of God, the unkindness of 
reserve and of neglect, of petulance and of passion, 
in all their forms of act, word, and feature, are 
watchfully to be shunned ; and each individual sus- 
taining this great relation, is to find an excellent 
happiness here, as he may, along with the favor of 
God, in consulting with unintermitted earnestness 
for the happiness of another, whose welfare is bound 
up with his own. 

4. Again; among the objects which friendship 
contemplates, are such as extend beyond the present 
life. He who feels that our religion is the source 
of his own highest pleasures, cannot but devoutly 
wish that his friend may share largely in the same. 
He who knows that bliss or misery, in an endless 
life to come, is to be the sure inheritance of every 
man according to the character of the deeds done 
in the body, must needs rejoice with joy unspeaka- 
ble in contemplating the christian virtue, cannot 
witness without distressing solicitude the spiritual 
danger, of the individual to whom he is allied in 
the closest tie of fellowship. If we prize that 
friendship, the hope must be precious to our hearts, 
that it may not be of the things which pass away, 
but may be renewed after death, not again to be 
dissolved forever. 

There is no more manifest or higher duty of the 
marriage state, none which a christian affection 
more urgently enforces, than that they, whom it 
unites, be fellow-helpers to one another to ' the 

30 



234 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

truth as it is in Jesus, 5 and to the salvation which 
that truth brings. A solemn religious responsibility 
of this kind belongs to that relation. We commonly 
say, and no one doubts, that we are bound under 
the weightiest obligations to consult for the reli- 
gious well-being of our children ; and the reason 
assigned for this is, that we ought to endeavor to 
make that existence happy, which, under providence, 
w 7 e have been the means of giving. Is there no 
like reason which obliges us to extend the blessings 
of religion, as we may, to that existence which 
we have voluntarily pledged ourselves to endeavor 
to make happy ? — And in a case where responsibil- 
ity so clearly follows upon power, the power which 
the husband and wife possess over each other's 
characters, is scarcely inferior, if at all, to that 
which the parent possesses over the character of 
the child. The child, it is true, comes under the 
parent's management while his dispositions are yet 
in their most flexible immaturity ; but, on the other 
hand, in the common course of things, it is dismiss- 
ed from that management into a world of exposure 
at an early period of life, while nothing severs the 
other relation in its closest intimacy, but the blow 
that sends the body, its service ended, to its rest in 
the grave, and the spirit, its trial over, to the judg- 
ment of God who gave it. — And the influences 
which belong to this relation act with a freedom 
from some obstructions which hinder them in the 
other. Childhood and mature life see the same 
things through different optics. There is an imper- 
fect sympathy between them. The young are apt 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 235 

to reckon mere prejudice and severity, what their 
elders account the instruction of experience, and 
the exercise of a mild control ; and in the difference 
of the respective discipline of mind which few and 
many years have given, parent and child are liable 
not to be satisfied with the same reasonings, nor im- 
pressed by the same illustrations of truth. So far, 
friends of more equal age have their characters more 
within the power of one another's minds. Standing 
in a like position for observations upon the distinc- 
tions and consequences of conduct, enlightened by 
the instructions of a similar experience, and dispos- 
ed to a similarity of views by all the influences of 
the same period of life, one has the greater advan- 
tage for leading the other to conclusions to which 
he has been led for himself. And in the matrimo- 
nial relation, the intimacy between such equals is 
so close as to justify advice, and even expostulation ; 
to disclose fully, under all its aspects, the character 
which one would desire to improve ; to facilitate 
the constant and seasonable exhibition of example 
which may be needed ; to favor the timely sugges- 
tion and recommendation of profitable truth ; and 
to enable one to wait and watch for opportunities 
which, judiciously seized, will often do at once, 
w 7 hat, without them, would cost much time and 
pains, if, indeed, capable, without them, of being 
accomplished at all. 

This power, husband and wife must with all good 
conscience use. Affect each other's characters un- 
avoidably they must. In this office, they cannot 
escape the alternative of doing important service, 



236 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

or contracting heavy criminality. It cannot be, 
that an agency so direct shall be in operation through 
a course of years, and no moral results appear. If 
a mutual love subsist, there will be an effectual 
power, in solicitations which may be used, in senti- 
ments which may be expressed, in the example 
which may be presented, in every influence of daily 
communion. If that sentiment do not subsist, the 
power will not be forfeited, though then scarcely 
capable of being employed to beneficial issues ; but 
will remain to manifest a most pernicious efficacy, 
in the encouragement of all ungentle feelings, and 
the dwarfing of all growth in grace. It should be 
our habitual endeavor thoroughly to acquaint our- 
selves, as we have opportunity to do, with the char- 
acter which it is our business to correct and im- 
prove, with the mind which it is our set task to en- 
deavor to enlighten and elevate. While advice on 
either part should never be officiously, nor censure 
assumingly nor offensively conveyed, neither, when 
it seems that they might be useful, should be with- 
holden through indulgence to any selfish considera- 
tion. The purpose they might serve is too impor- 
tant to be thus sacrificed. But there is to be a pa- 
tient waiting for occasions when they may be made 
most acceptable, convincing and efficacious ; the 
eligible ways of suggesting them are to be studied ; 
and that we may offer them the more graciously, as 
well as for better reasons, we are to take care to 
receive them with a mild and ready welcome, when 
offered to ourselves, and to recognize them then as 
dictated by the most friendly motives. The truths 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 237 

and the opinions, which we think important, are to 
be presented to the mind we are concerned for, 
in the most favorable lights which we are able to 
command for them. The morals, which passing 
events afford, are to be extracted from them, in dis- 
course leading to a comparison of the impressions 
which they make. In every commendable course of 
conduct, all assurances of satisfaction, and other 
encouragement which may promise to be best re- 
ceived, are cordially to be offered ; and everything, 
within one's reach, to be supplied, which may facili- 
tate or reward the tasks of duty. The influence, 
with which the affection, we may have inspired, in- 
vests us, is all to be thrown into this scale. Above 
all, we are to endeavor to approve and endear the re- 
ligion, whose authority we w r ould extend in the heart 
the closest knit to our own, by manifesting its pow- 
er to make ourselves meek and useful, tranquil and 
devout, generous and happy ; and in united devo- 
tions to commend the relation we sustain, and the 
great objects we would serve in it, to the blessing 
of Almighty God. 

The happiness and benefits resulting from the re- 
lation, when its duties, as they have now been 
enumerated, are in some fit degree discharged, I 
shall not undertake, my hearers, to describe ; but 
rather conclude by insisting on the point, that em- 
bracing, as they do, the best enjoyments of the 
present life, and tending to the supreme enjoyments 
of the life which is to come, they are only to be 
reasonably hoped for in cases where the relation is 
sustained under a scrupulous and lofty sense of duty. 



238 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

Nay, more ; the maxims are as true as they are trite, 
which set forth that the condition of marriage, if 
not a very happy, will be a very wretched one, which 
christian patience, no doubt, can bear and sanctify, 
as it can other evils, but, in enduring which, it finds 
itself tasked the most severely. And if it be so, 
what a solemn question is that, to whom we will 
commit such a control over our present and our 
future destiny. Can we feel safe in trusting it to 
any but conscientious persons ? Without extreme 
rashness, can we think of committing our peace for 
this life, and such an influence over our prospects 
in the future, to one whom we do not believe to be 
controlled, at least, by a strict sense of duty, — to 
intend, under all circumstances, to do the right ? 
The principles which do not yet appear, it is true, 
may appear hereafter ; and it must be owned, that 
there does seem to be in the female mind, especially, 
an aptitude for religion, which the nature of domestic 
responsibilities is seen to have a tendency to devel- 
ope. And this is to be acknowledged as one of the 
checks, which a gracious providence has furnished, 
against, what would else be the much wider and 
more hurtful consequences of human imprudence. 
But that strong principles will appear, when as yet 
they have not, is what we have no right to count 
upon ; and unless they should, the prospect, with 
all things else which may seem to brighten it, is a 
dark and an alarming one. Some one of my young 
hearers will object to me, that the affections cannot 
be forced, and that we cannot dictate to ourselves to 
love another, merely for being precise and good. I 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 239 

will answer first, that precision is not goodness ; and 
then, that the proposition of the affections being in- 
capable of being forced, — that is, into life and de- 
velopment, — true or not, is nothing to the purpose. 
What I am saying is, that they may be restrained 
and suppressed, and that they ought to be, — and 
that they must be, at the individual's own most 
awful peril, — when the person, to whom the affec- 
tions are in a way to attach themselves, does not 
manifest that character, which affords a reasonable 
prospect of being equal to serious duties, and exi- 
gencies, and trials. Wit, and beauty, and grace, 
and talent, and fortune, for example, are all good 
things for their several purposes. But they can 
scarcely be called very good even for these, unless 
combined witb something which is better ; and at 
all events, for the purpose now in our contemplation, 
the securing of happiness in the state of wed- 
lock, all of them combined have been repeatedly 
proved to be of insufficient avail, without the addi- 
tion of what is now insisted on. Youth is easily 
attracted, and decided soon. It forgets, that the 
fanciful preference of a moment may not safely 
determine the prospects of a life. It is unmindful, 
that looking to this world merely, occasions will 
come, for which the graces of the ball-room are no 
sort of preparation. It rashly takes the eyes which 
can sparkle in their morning brilliancy, for those 
which will weep meekly in sorrow, and kindle with 
a steady encouragement in the midst of care, and 
hold a light which can cheer when all other light 
on earth has waxed dim. It is so wild as to mistake 



240 DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 

the flatterer of the hour, for the same who will be 
the ministering angel of sickness and decline. It 
needs to be reminded, that if there is any engage- 
ment in life, which is not to be formed under the 
arbitration of caprice, it is that w T hich is not dis- 
solved, till the parting shall come at the laden bier 
and the open grave. It must be conjured to re- 
member, that if there is any step in life, which 
requires beyond others to be made reverently, dis- 
creetly, advisedly, soberly, prayerfully, and in the 
fear of God, it is that step, which day by day is the 
most inconsiderately taken. 

I may be conceived by some to be doing little bet- 
ter than speaking to the winds, while I am arguing 
with youthful confidence and precipitancy. But 
let it not be thought so. If youth is hopeful and 
impetuous, — in very many instances, thanks to the 
influences of our religion, and the faithfulness of 
parental care, it is also conscientious and consider- 
ate. If 1 have been offering what, among the differ- 
ent particulars of good advice, is one of the least 
likely to be taken, assuredly it will not be for want 
of deserving to be taken ; and among those who may 
now hear and neglect it, there may be some who 
will hereafter see occasion to call these my words 
to mind. — I turn from the topic, to ask in one 
word, whether, with all good prospects for himself, 
— looking to his obligations to others alone, — any 
one will be so mad, as, in a spirit of levity, to think 
of entering on this most serious relation ? Will 
any one think of entering upon it ? without first 
solemnly reviewing the obligations he proposes to 



DUTIES OF HUSBANDS AND WIVES. 241 

assume ; without rigorously examining himself to 
learn whether he is prepared to fulfil them ; without 
fervently imploring the divine blessing to prosper 
his purpose to be found in all things faithful ? And 
of us, my friends, who already sustain it, will any 
one fail, in serious self-communion, habitually to 
reconsider his responsibilities ; to reflect on the 
great results, for evil or for good, which depend on 
their being slighted or religiously met ; and earn- 
estly and frequently to beseech the Father of mer- 
cies, the God of all grace, to prepare us to render 
our account of this stewardship with joy, on that 
day when the tenor of all lives, and the secrets of 
all hearts shall be revealed ? 



31 



SERMON XVII 



DUTIES OF PARENTS 



1 TIMOTHY V, 8. 

IF ANY PROVIDE WOT FOR HIS OWN, AND SPECIALLY FOR THOSE OF HIS 
OWN HOUSE, HE HATH DENIED THE FAITH, AND IS WORSE THAN AN 
INFIDEL. 

From the connexion, it is very probable that all 
which St Paul had in view to express by these 
words, was, — as is commonly understood, — the 
obligation to furnish suitable maintenance from day 
to day, to one's domestic dependants. His lan- 
guage, however, in the period quoted, suggests no 
such limitation. The first clause might be properly 
rendered, if any do not take care for his own, — if 
any be not thoughtful for their benefit ; and in this 
there is no intimation of the care in question being 
restricted in its objects to their present, or to their 
temporal interests. If it were not so, the obliga- 
tion of parents to keep their children above present 
physical wants would be extended, by parity of 
reasoning, to embrace other provisions for their wel- 
fare. Nothing can be plainer than that it is incum- 
bent on them to endeavor to make that existence 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 243 

which, under providence, they have bestowed, a 
happy existence. And, to this end, they are no 
more really bound to make present provision of food 
and raiment, than they are to take measures, that a 
like provision may be permanently made. Nor, since 
the supply of physical necessities through life is 
not all that goes to constitute their children's well- 
being, would they be discharged of their duty by 
an exclusive attention to this, however exemplary 
that attention might be. 

I. Of those duties of parents in providing for 
children, which make the subject now proposed 
for your consideration, the duty of consulting for 
their well-being at the present time, is that which 
naturally first suggests itself. 

1. In this is included, as one branch, what has 
been already hinted at, the duty of maintenance. 

Since no one has a right by his own act to cause 
other innocent persons to suffer, nor to throw upon 
yet others the burden of keeping them from suffer- 
ing, the child and the public have evidently a right 
to demand of the parent, that what he has produced, 
he shall support. This he must do according to 
his power, and according to the station which he, 
and consequently in some measure his child, hold in 
society. And because, and just so far, as he is 
bound to do this, he is bound to enable himself to 
do it. It is not enough for him to say that he has 
nothing to do it with, unless he can add that it is 
by the act of God, defeating his strenuous endeav- 
ors, that he is thus destitute. Idleness and waste- 
fulness, criminal in any one, are ten-fold criminal 



244 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

in a parent. I speak not now of unnatural deser- 
tion, nor of impoverishing and destructive vices, 
which make him the heaviest burden and curse of 
his own dwelling. But if what should make suita- 
ble and reasonable provision for his children be 
withdrawn from that use for mere selfish indigen- 
cies of any kind ; if the father whose toils are his 
children's dependence, be deficient in a systematic 
and judicious diligence, or the mother be remiss in 
that domestic order which turns what is possessed, 
little or much, to the best use, there is a worse 
than infidel hardness there, — there is a heart of 
stone, where a warm parental heart ought to throb. 
I may seem often to bring to your notice, my friends, 
these virtues of industry and prudence, and they 
may seem not to belong to the most elevated order 
of subjects. But I have the same notion of reli- 
gion, which was expressed by an excellent prelate, 
when he said, that he looked on everything as a 
question of religion, which was a question of a 
right and a wrong ; and if the topics in question 
are often brought to T iew, they are not therefore to 
be thought the less of, provided this is naturally 
done, in consequence of any connexion which they 
really have with other subjects of remark. On the 
contrary, their importance is only shown the more, 
by their relations being so wide and manifold. 

I remarked, that the kind of maintenance which 
it is a parent's duty to afford to his child, seems to 
be prescribed by considerations of his means, and of 
the habits of that station in society to which he, 
and consequently his child, in some measure, belong. 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 245 

The most affluent can preserve their children's lives 
on as cheap terms as the day laborer, but to do this 
would not be discharging their duty, because, being 
able to furnish some additional present advantages, 
which are real, it is right that they should bestow 
them, — the poor are dispensed from doing this by 
their want of power ; — and because the children 
of the poor, having all that others in like circum- 
stances have or expect, ought to be contented, while 
the children of the rich, if they want what is com- 
monly enjoyed by others in like circumstances, with 
whom they naturally compare themselves, and are 
compared, are exposed to remark and to mortifica- 
tions. This principle, so evident as to its grounds 
is of somewhat delicate application, and it is not an 
unheard of complaint on the part of children, that 
a reasonable liberality is not shown to them. It is 
clear that this complaint, except in extreme cases, 
is always undutiful. It is perhaps not as clear, but 
it is as true, that it can scarcely ever be safely 
made; — safely, I mean, as to a probability of its 
being well-founded. Whether a reasonable liberal- 
ity is shown or not, depends on two considerations 
which have been specified. As to both, the parent 
is the less partial judge of the two, — the child, I 
do not say from want of affection, but from thought- 
lessness, thinking mainly of his own gratification ; — 
the parent, for a general rule, finding his own grati- 
fication in all suitable indigencies to the child. As 
to one of the considerations, the parent is also 
plainly the more competent judge. He better knows 
what is his place in life, and what are its real de- 



246 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

mands and decencies. And as to the other consid- 
eration, — that of his ability to meet the wishes of 
the other party, — he is the only judge. His child, 
under misapprehensions of this, which he is very 
likely to take up, and can scarcely ever have a rea- 
sonable assurance that he has not taken up, may 
suppose him to be niggardly, when he himself knows 
that in an earnest desire to be generous, he has been 
intrenching on the limits of imprudence. 

Having made this remark, let me proceed to 
another, for the use not of children, but of pa- 
rents. For the reasons which have been stated, 
children cannot make a good use of it. Parents 
possibly may. — It is this ; that it is a very mis- 
placed and pernicious economy in parents, when, 
either for the sake of greater accumulations for 
themselves, or for the more specious reasons of en- 
riching their children the more hereafter, or teach- 
ing them betimes how to live upon little, they un- 
necessarily straiten them in their expenditures, so 
as to create a perceptible difference between their 
appearance, and that of others of like condition and 
age. Too often this course has been known to 
tempt to, what I need not say it by no means ex- 
cuses, petty dishonesties ; and except in very hap- 
pily constituted natures, its tendency is to form 
a servile, inefficient, dependent, artful, unmanly 
character, or to be succeeded by habits of a desperate 
profligacy, when wealth and free agency, with all 
their untried responsibilities, come at length to be 
enjoyed ; — or what, incongruous as it is in theory 
is not unknown to experience, to develope both 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 247 

these wretched classes of propensities in the same 
individual. 

2. This obligation of providing for the maintenance 
of children, I introduced as one branch of the more 
comprehensive duty of consulting for their welfare 
for the time being. Their happiness, it is evident, 
does not depend alone on such provision being 
made. A captious and severe parent will be felt to 
have left much undone for his child's enjoyment* 
whatever care he may have taken for supplying 
him with shelter, food and raiment. But parental 
love, as a principle of constant kindness, does not 
essentially differ in its manifestations from the affec- 
tion that belongs to other relations ; so that it will 
be sufficient to have named it here, as what ought 
to be the established and all-pervading spirit of in- 
tercourse, prompting the parent, as far as may be, to 
do all favors, allow all indulgencies, and practice all 
forbearance, — consistent with the child's permanent 
well-being, — which may go to make its early life a 
morning of unbroken sunshine. And indeed that 
parental affection, which is so universal an instinct 
that the apostle had good cause to say, that who- 
soever showed himself destitute of it was worse 
than an unbeliever, and scarcely could claim to be 
called a man, — that parental affection, I say, is an 
instinct so strong, that there is more frequent danger 
of its misdirection or excess, than of its absence. 
Its due guidance and limitations belong to the sub- 
ject of the proper conduct of the education of the 
young. As to its vigor and habitual exercise, which 
alone present themselves in this connexion, it may be 



248 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

enough to say, that these are chiefly threatened by 
unevenness of temper, and by partiality. There 
are persons, of truly warm attachments, but irritable 
feelings, whose prevailing disinterestedness is felt 
by their friends to be scarcely more than a requital 
for the pain which at times their uncontrolled pas- 
sion inflicts. And let him who would be a really 
kind parent take care to regard all his children, as 
nearly as possible, with an equal affection. Let 
him seriously strive to do this, and if still he fails, 
still let him strive to conceal his failure. Let him 
admit no preference ; but as long as there is a pref- 
erence unsubdued, let it be disguised, for it will be 
felt by sensitive natures to be a cruel wound. 

II. A second part of the provision due to those of 
one's own house, respects their means of living for 
the future ; in other words, what is commonly called 
their establishment in life. 

While a parent is not to suppose that he is doing 
everything for his children when he amasses a for- 
tune for them, and while on the ground that charity 
begins at home, he is not to assume that it also ends 
there, it is his duty to endeavor to make such pro- 
vision for them, proportioned, as before, to his pow- 
er, and to the place which they are to hold in soci- 
ety, as shall give them a reasonable prospect of ease 
and independence in their future circumstances. 
And especially will he be anxious to do this in the 
case of children, who, from infirmity of mind or 
body, disadvantage of sex, or other like cause, have 
less capacity of providing for themselves. 

But, my friends, assuredly we should do little for 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 249 

our children, in the way even of securing them from 
want, if we were to do no more than leave them 
enormous fortunes. The only capital, which can be 
placed for them in anything like a secure investment, 
is what we deposit in their own minds. Nowhere, 
does it need to be urged on a person of any obser- 
vation, that riches have a tendency lo take to them- 
selves wings, and fly away, — least of all in a com- 
munity, whose institutions, leaving everything ac- 
cessible to individual talent and enterprise, favor 
this tendency, as ours do. An experienced person, 
tracing in his mind his child's future path among 
the chances of life, cannot fail to see how uncer- 
tain is his permanent hold on what he may take up 
at its entrance. He knows that, with good manage- 
ment, unavoidable mischance may deprive him of 
what a parent's providence has long been storing ; 
and that ignorance, or carelessness, to say nothing 
of profligacy, almost certainly will. Apart then 
from the obligation of service to the public, the rich 
do not their duty by their children, in respect even 
to their future maintenance, by bequeathing to them 
the most splendid estates, unless by bringing them 
up in habits of discretion, and instructing them in 
something, which if need should come, may be 
turned to a gainful use, they invest them with the 
power to preserve what they may possess, or to re- 
trieve their fortunes, should any reverse befall them. 
And to insist on this being done, should such urgen- 
cy be requisite, is an occasion that calls for the ex- 
ercise of a decided parental authority. In all the 
common chances of life, the rich young profligate 

32 



250 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

will either die young, or die a beggar ; and though 
inexperience and incapacity without vice are less 
threatening, there is danger enough in them to call 
for a parent's best precautions. 

What is the duty of the rich in this particular, is, 
for reasons which are perhaps more obvious, though 
they can scarcely be called stronger, the duty of all 
others. He who sends a child upon the theatre of 
life without the disposition and the capacity to get 
his living, — and by the disposition I mean a readi- 
ness to labor steadily in something useful, and by 
the capacity, a knowledge how something useful 
is to be done, — he, I say, who sends a child upon 
the stage of life without this preparation, not only 
takes the risk, greater or less in different cases, but 
great in all, of throwing a burden on the public, 
but, — a consideration which perhaps will touch him 
nearer, — he is exposing his child to very probable 
misery. Without any exception this is true. And 
every parent is deliberately preparing to consum- 
mate this sacrifice, who without earnest remon- 
strance, or without exerting to the utmost the au- 
thority and influence which belong to his relation, 
sees his child growing up in habits of vice, or of 
hurtful or unprofitable self-indulgence. c His sons 
made themselves vile, and he restrained them not,' 
is one of the severest reproaches of parental un- 
faithfulness ; and they are making themselves, or pre- 
paring to make themselves, vile, even in the world's 
indulgent esteem, as surely as, in youth, they are 
either doing amiss, or doing nothing. On the con- 
trary, they are assuredly making themselves honora- 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 251 

ble, whatever now their station, if they are going 
through the discipline of a diligent youth. More 
ambitious hopes a fond parent need not indulge, in a 
country where, as with us, the prizes of society are 
free, than that his child may be industrious in qual- 
ifying himself for the tasks of manhood, and then 
have his life and health spared to profit by his ac- 
quisitions. 

As to the kind of establishment for children, 
which ought to be desired, there seems to be a rea- 
sonable check to a parent's undue ambition for any, 
in the improbability that he would be able to exalt, 
alike, all those for whom he ought to feel an equal 
concern. If a remarkable success should elevate 
one far above the rest, the world would call this 
splendid, but the parties concerned would be apt to 
find it uncomfortable, and a rupture of the union, 
or of the perfect sympathy of the whole, would be 
too dear a price to pay for the uneasy exaltation of 
an individual. Advancement above the sphere, into 
which one was born, may be reasonably sought ; but 
respectability in that sphere, which is more certainly 
attainable, is enough for a good mind to be contented 
with ; a wide removal from it, if attained, is always 
an experiment upon happiness ; and the ambition 
after such change, if immoderate, is always liable 
to be attended with painful disappointment. The 
great objects to be regarded are, the security of hap- 
piness and of virtue ; and the considerations, which 
belong to these, make place for an enlightened discre- 
tion. Criminal employments are of course not to 
be thought of. Employments attended with any 



252 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

uncommon temptations are to be shunned ; and the 
occupation, to which a young person shall look for- 
ward, is to be determined with some reference to 
his own character, as far as that is developed, the 
selection, which demands to be made, being of such 
as will find use and excitement for his characteristic 
good qualities, and restrain, or at least not call out, 
his bad. Whatever will help him to be virtuous, 
will help him to be happy. But his happiness is 
also involved in other considerations, which there- 
fore, according to their respective importance, claim 
a distinct regard in making this choice. Consider- 
ations of health and of situation are to be admitted ; 
and here too, while a parent's better knowledge and 
experience give him in some respects a great advan- 
tage for deciding what will make his child perma- 
nently happy, the child's well-ascertained and fixed 
preference on the other hand, is entitled, in its due 
degree, to regard, since the disappointment of a 
taste which itself, unfortunately, is not the wisest, 
sometimes leads to unhappiness and so to other evils, 
greater than would have been likely to ensue, had 
the taste been gratified. 

1 have only further to suggest, under this head, 
that the leading remark is not intended to have ex- 
clusive application to those young persons, whom 
the task of earning a subsistence most commonly 
awaits. It seems equally a duty so to educate 
young persons of the other sex, that they may be 
able in some way to maintain themselves with dig- 
nity and independence, should circumstances ever 
bring on them that necessity. 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 253 

III. But, thirdly, a person may have an abun- 
dance to live upon, and yet be exceedingly far from 
happiness. If a parent had done all which as yet 
has been prescribed, and with the greatest success, 
still he might have sent his child into life with a cer- 
tainty of being very unhappy there ; because he 
might have sent him thither unworthy of that good- 
will of others, from which many of our enjoyments, 
to be possessed by us at all, must flow, and incapa- 
ble of those highest, those indispensable enjoyments, 
of which a man must carry the spring within him- 
self. 

Let us take care, my friends, according to our 
means, and the measure of a reasonable judgment, 
and in the communication of powers of action, which 
we hope and endeavor that they may have good 
sense and good principle to use well, to give our 
children a fair prospect of worldly prosperity. We 
shall thus convey to them what is a real good. We 
shall give them advantages, and furnish them with 
a degree of defence against temptations. But let 
us not dream, that, in doing this, we have made for 
them all the provision which is due from us. If 
they continue to be what the world calls prosperous, 
they w T ill want for their happiness something, which 
is much beyond this, and possessing which they 
can never in any reverses be utterly forlorn. We 
carry, after all, the sources of most of our happi- 
ness along with us. The enjoyments which flow 
from these are heightened or impaired by outward 
circumstances, into which we may fall. But with- 
out them, no auspicious concurrence of outward cir- 



254 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

cumstances can give real satisfaction, and with them 
no severity of fortune can take it wholly away. 

Apart from the approbation of conscience, my 
friends, which in itself, and its foundation and con- 
sequences, is undoubtedly the one thing needful, — 
apart, I say, from this, which in fact is so inwoven 
with the whole subject, that at almost every point it is 
interfering with my endeavor to exclude it from pres- 
ent consideration, — how much is there, that goes to 
make a man happy, of a nature to be furnished to the 
child by a provident parental care. To impart the 
power of getting money, is certainly not the only 
object, even of a discipline which looks not to the 
higher objects of education. I might here very 
properly speak of the obligation of parents to take 
due precautions for securing to their children the 
great blessing of a sound body to be the clothing 
and instrument of a sound mind, and by denying 
them unreasonable indigencies of ease and appe- 
tite, and by other suitable regimen, to prepare them 
to undergo hereafter fatigues and exposures, which 
may belong to some place of duty. And indeed 
when one considers, how helpless a being the best- 
principled invalid is often compelled to be, and how 
much trouble he must needs occasion, cheerfully as 
that trouble may be borne, and how much in fact the 
functions of the mind and the soul are concerned 
with those of the physical system with which they 
are united, there will appear reason for saying, that 
the care of health, undertaken for reasons of con- 
science, comes as near to the character of an im- 
portant virtue, as anything which does not com- 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 255 

monly bear that name. Again ; to what wearing 
weariness is the man condemned, who has nothing 
to do ; and while we all feel, unless we are shame- 
less, that a fair standing with others is a desirable 
addition to happiness, how little is he who does 
nothing, esteemed or cared for. Fill a man's coffers 
with treasure, and his pulses with high health, and 
what a dull blank may existence yet seem to him, 
and what a duller blank in existence may he yet see 
himself to be. 

My friends, who have reached the period in life 
which I am addressing with these counsels, we have 
all experienced, in some degree, either the torment 
of the want, or the worth of the possession, of 
some fit employment for our time ; and in either of 
them we have had a better lesson than words can 
impress, of the obligation of anticipating for our 
children these demands, these necessities of the 
mind. If it is probable that their future lives will 
be passed in the labors of some useful calling, very 
far are they from being unhappy in this, and on 
it we may well place our chief dependence for 
their living contented and esteemed. But then we 
shall do well to inspire them with a taste for the 
exercise and cultivation of their minds. It will 
protect their leisure from bad uses, and occupy it 
well. It will give them added dignity and happi- 
ness, in whatever station. It will increase their 
means of making others happy, especially in the 
domestic sphere. It will enlarge their power of 
using opportunities to advance themselves. It will 
elevate their nature. For those, whose prospect of 



256 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

exemption from gainful pursuits promises them a 
more unbroken leisure, the necessity is greater of 
forming a taste for intellectual pleasures. Not only 
is the express responsibility on them, to feed high 
the intellectual flame within them, that it may en- 
lighten all around, but in great part, in a taste for 
intellectual pleasures, they absolutely need to find 
their moral security, and their daily enjoyments* 
Nor are accomplishments of a more superficial na- 
ture by any means undeserving to be comprehended 
in the scheme of a judicious education. They en- 
large one's means of commanding and imparting 
pleasure, and one of these is a benevolent aim, and 
both are worthy ones. They add to the number of 
innocent uses of time, which might else not be so 
profitably spent. They impart a certain delicacy to 
the mind. They sometimes afford means of adding 
to its stores, and they may afford it excitement and 
help in what are its more appropriate and graver 
exercises. Only scrupulous care is to be taken, that 
an unreasonable importance be not attached to them 
by the young mind, nor an undue attention given ; 
and that they be not disproportioned to other advan- 
tages which the individual enjoys, nor unsuitable to 
his probable future condition in life. 

Adhering to what seems the spirit of the apostle's 
declaration in our text, I have endeavored, my 
hearers, in the suggestions which have been offered, 
to confine myself to considerations of a parent's 
duty in providing for his children the various sub- 
ordinate means of happiness, for the present time, 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 257 

and for the rest of life, not touching, since it is a 
topic worthy of distinct consideration, the obliga- 
tion of training them to those sentiments and habits 
of religious goodness, without which whatever else 
may be done for them is almost worthless, in any 
view or for any use. This could not with propriety 
be added as a separate division of our present sub- 
ject, because in fact, when considered at all, it in- 
corporates itself with each of those that have been 
treated. If we have succeeded in inspiring our 
children with love to God and man, in exciting in 
them a relish for the pleasures of devotion, rectitude, 
and self-government, we have then consulted, the 
most effectually which is possible to us, for their 
immediate enjoyment ; for their eligible establish- 
ment in life, which in common circumstances, is a 
prize for the attainment of their own virtues, and 
a gift of that favor of others, which their virtues are 
the surest way to win ; and for that happiness in 
their coming years, which must needs be affected 
mainly by the moral bias of their minds to good or 
unworthy objects, and not inconsiderably by the es- 
timation in society which this will tend to bring. 
I therefore separate the topic from those which 
have been discussed, only saying, in conclusion, what 
will not be questioned, that there is in truth no 
other provision for his own, which it is so solemnly 
incumbent on a parent to make, as that of the love 
of duty. And if he be negligent of this care, the 
apostle's language is to him language of most man- 
ifestly indubitable truth. Well may he be called 
worse than an infidel, who, turning a deaf ear to the 
33 



258 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

cry of his child's want, does violence to an impulse of 
nature which the most uninstructed and undevout 
acknowledge. But with an added force of appli- 
cation, does the falsely called christian parent en- 
title himself to the name, who abandons his child's 
immortal part to famish and die. The infidel, in 
doing this, denies no faith. He knows no better, 
or at least he is consistent. But the parent who 
professes to believe, that for those he professes to 
love, the question of a blissful or a wretched fu- 
turity is suspended on that of a godly or a wick- 
ed life, and yet pursues no settled purpose of deter- 
mining that issue for them happily, w r hat character 
will he venture to lay claim to, on the ground of 
the provision which he is making for his own ? 



SERMON XVIII. 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 



1 TIMOTHY V, 8. 

IF ANY PROVIDE NOT FOR HIS OWN, AND SPECIALLY FOR THOSE OF HIS 
OWN HOUSE, HE HATH DENIED THE FAITH, AND IS WORSE THAN AN 
INFIDEL. 

Attending, on the last Lord's day, to the obliga- 
tion of parents to provide for their children's well- 
being during the period of pupilage, to provide for 
their suitable establishment in life, and to provide for 
their possessing the power of being useful, and re- 
sources for being happy, when the sure lapse of time 
shall commit them to their own care, we purposely 
reserved for a distinct consideration, what it was 
suggested was a provision involved in all, going 
further than either, and requisite to make the rest 
effectual ; — the provision of a moral and religious 
discipline. We endeavored to limit our observations 
before, to advantages of condition which parents 
should aim to furnish, and accomplishments of the 
mind. Our concern is now with the formation of 
the character, the training of the heart. Our re- 
marks on this branch of the provision which parents 



260 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

are bound to make for their own, may be conveni- 
ently arranged under the following heads ; 
I. Its nature. 

II. The spirit in which it should be made. 

III. Its worth. 

I. Of its nature. — A moral and religious disci- 
pline, — that is, a discipline designed to form the 
character to all virtue, — will be conducted by in- 
struction, affecting directly the principles, and, by 
various influences, aimed directly at the practice. 

1. The object of instruction is, to settle right 
principles of action in the mind. Principles are 
what we are most of all to depend upon. Principle 
will act, when and where authority will not. Principle 
is always present with the agent, to exert a control, 
when he who else might assume authority, is not 
there to interfere ; and principle can regulate that, 
of which authority is able to take no cognizance, 
the state of the thoughts and inclinations, which 
always are the rudiments, and many times are the 
substance, of virtuous and wicked conduct. Principle? 
when it is fit to be called such, is much stronger than 
example, and is continually seen to contend success- 
fully against it ; besides that principle can guide in 
cases, where no example is to be had, and the high- 
est characters aim at a sphere, which is above all ex- 
ample but Jesus's own. Again ; principle operating 
in suitable conduct, is character itself, whereas au- 
thority, and example, and others, are only influences, 
under which principle, and thereby character, may 
come to be formed. 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 261 

Now principle is a guide not more for the advanced 
in life than for the young, though, as we advance in 
life, it is reasonably expected to become more en- 
lightened, and so more discriminating, and more 
firm. In a very young mind, it is possible to give 
that delicacy and power to conscience, that it shall 
feel no punishment more than its own reproaches^ 
nor be more excited by anything than by its own 
approbation. That due care consists in judicious 
and full instruction. In judicious instruction, which 
habitually analyses the character of conduct, and 
explains to the satisfaction of the child's mind, 
from the time when he begins to reason, the right 
and the wrong that belong to it. To do a parent's 
duty well in this respect, one should be a clear, 
and to this end he must be in some degree, a pro- 
found, — at least a careful, casuist ; and though this 
is not a common attainment, it is only through neg- 
ligence that it is not, for every one who has had a 
parent's experience of life, is able, if he will give 
his mind to it, without the aid of books, to assign 
their real character to most actions of common oc- 
currence. For want of such pains being taken 
with them through the period of pupilage, many 
children grow up with no precise, that is, with no 
just views of what duty is ; while, on the other hand, 
let them but be encouraged and aided in such in- 
quiries according to the measure of their growing 
capacities, and one is astonished to see what an ap- 
petite and what a facility for it they develope. 
Nothing is more striking than the aptitude of the 



262 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

young mind, with a little help, to make just and 
nice moral distinctions, which, if made at a later 
period, when the mind has been through the blind- 
ing and distorting discipline of selfish life, pass for 
the attainment of an uncommon wisdom. 

We observed, that that instruction which commu- 
nicates the principles of right conduct needs to be 
Full, as well as to be distinct. It needs to be full 
in respect to the demands of duty, and in respect to 
the grounds of its obligation. As to its demands, 
they claim to be exhibited in their whole extent, as 
set before us in the gospel of Jesus Christ. If we 
profess to desire, as our highest object, to bring up 
our children to be subjects of God's favor, then 
surely nothing on which God has declared his favor 
to depend, can safely be omitted from our notice. 
And if it were not so, if there were one so blinded 
as to think of nothing but providing for his child so 
much virtue as would best serve his purposes in this 
w r orld, let him be assured that all virtue hangs to- 
gether ; that all good dispositions and habits of the 
soul have a mutual dependence ; and that if, in 
thousands of cases, the experiment were tried of 
making a man sober, honest and kind without the 
help of the fear of God, in the thousands of exper- 
iments there would not be one result, of anything 
beyond the most imperfect and unsatisfactory suc- 
cess. 

Once more ; instruction concerning duty is to 
touch the grounds of its obligation. We say, my 
hearers, that we have told our children that this 
action ought to be done, and that to be forborne, 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 265 

and that having thus instilled into them good prin- 
ciples, we feel a confidence in committing them to 
the exposures of life. I make no doubt of the pow- 
er of their principles, remaining in due force, to 
protect them. But let me ask, what is to protect 
their principles ? Have you made sufficient provis- 
ion for this ? If you have, it has been by a care 
excellently well bestowed, but a care which has 
cost you no little thought and time. Those princi- 
ples, on which reliance is to be placed for the future 
course of the young, are themselves to be guarded 
by a perception of the authority on which they rest ; 
by acquaintance with the evidence, the sense and 
sanctions of that law of God, of which the princi- 
ples of duty, as they are called, are but the trans- 
cript in the individual mind. The time will come, 
when the parent's authority will not alone, on such 
a subject, be enough for conviction ; and requisite 
provision for the hazards of that time is only to be 
made, by acquainting the child's mind, during the 
period of instruction, with the proofs on which the 
christian revelation rests ; expounding to it in some 
detail those affecting truths of the gospel, which 
have such power to recommend themselves ; and, by 
those expedients which a religious affection is so 
fertile in inventing, leading it to discern and relish 
the beauty of christian holiness. The young mind 
must be interested in christian truth, before chris- 
tian principles can be said in any proper sense to be 
fixed in it. And this is not to be done by merely 
placing it within hearing of the preached word, or 
presenting the page of scripture to its notice. The 



264 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

truths there written will be best enforced by com- 
munications from the parent's own mind, which, to 
communicate them well, must be pervaded and 
warmed by them itself. 

2. Principles of due purity and strength, estab- 
lished in the mind, are doubtless more effectual to 
the end in question, than any influences operating 
directly on the practice. Yet these are by no 
means without their importance ; and chiefly, be- 
cause by them good principles are recommended to 
the adoption of the mind, and bad principles are 
prevented from acquiring a power, or strengthening 
or maintaining it, if unhappily acquired. 

The most important of them is example. And 
although happily, when opposed to established prin- 
ciple, it has to yield, it is of such consequence in 
inculcating principles, that the best inculcation of 
them without a corresponding example, is commonly 
of no avail ; or to speak more properly, when good 
principles are enforced by words which cost nothing, 
and bad by actions which are always a sincere lan- 
guage, the latter is the more forcible inculcation, 
and prevails. In extreme cases, indeed, there is an 
exception to this. A man's vices may be so evi- 
dently odious, as strongly to repel. The libertine, 
for instance, may enforce his lectures on sobriety, 
by the spectacle he presents of the ruin which de- 
viations from sobriety will bring. But no one, cer- 
tainly, would wish to deter his children from sin by 
exhibiting himself to them as a specimen of its 
mischiefs ; and, stopping any where short of this, — 
resting at any point where he retains some portion 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 265 

of their respect, and so of power to influence their 
minds, — his example of transgression speaks louder 
to them than his commendations of obedience. It 
is to no purpose, my hearers, — we speak to the 
wind, — if we extol to our children the excellence 
of self-command, and then they see us self-indul- 
gent. It is in vain, that we tell them of the obliga- 
tion and happiness of loving our neighbor, if they 
never know us to be consulting, nor making sacri- 
fices, for others' good. We had better be silent, 
and save our credit with them for sincerity, than 
discourse to them on the pleasures of devotion, 
while all our conduct, and all the rest of our conver- 
sation in their presence, betray a worldly, or a 
careless mind. And, on the other hand, the exhibi- 
tion of a godly, righteous and sober life is a perpet- 
ual and most moving enforcement of its principles, 
while they are not expressed in words. When they 
see him living on them, children are sure that their 
parent has been sincere in recommending principles, 
and truly values them for himself. They are grate- 
ful, instead of being weary, when they find him 
earnestly intent on communicating what they know 
that he heartily prizes. Be his example good or 
bad, they insensibly follow him ; and if it be good, 
the happiness, which they find in imitating it, dis- 
poses them favorably to the principles, which are 
known to be its guide. There is not a dictate, 
which a genuine parental affection more loudly ut- 
ters, than that of setting to children an example of 
a virtuous life. 

Authority is another influence, which a parent is 
34 



266 



DUTIES OF PARENTS 



entitled and bound to exert over children for their 
good. It is true that authority cannot take the state 
of the mind under its immediate regulation. But 
still it has an important sphere in the determina- 
tion of character, inasmuch as it may obstruct or 
favor the formation of habits, which have a powerful 
reaction upon principle, whether for good or for 
evil ; and it may remove the young mind from ex- 
posures to temptation, and subject it to external in- 
fluences favorable to its virtue. I cannot, by a di- 
rect exercise of my authority, compel my child to 
love truth, or to be peaceable ; but I can place such 
discouragements on his practise of disingenuousness, 
or indulgence of anger, as may probably prevent 
single offences from growing into inveterate habits, 
which, once formed, would soon lead to an utter 
depravation of principle in these respects. I cannot, 
by an exercise of authority, compel my child to love 
God ; but I may prevent him, for instance, from 
such an impious use of the Lord's day, as would 
serve to harden him in impiety, and I may procure 
his presence at those services of devotion, which, 
by God's blessing, may religiously affect his mind. 
Authority is not so much an instrument for attaining 
w r hat we aim at in this case, as a remedy or preven- 
tive of what must be shunned, especially the latter. 
But still its province remains a large one. Nor are 
we to understand authority as if it were altogether 
coercive. It does not belong to authority, to be a 
resisted influence. Often the will of the parent 
will, as it should, be made readily, and cheerfully, 
and gratefully, the guide of the child ; and then it 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 267 

has its happiest, widest, and most directly and thor- 
oughly effective exercise. But, when there is occa- 
sion for it to assume a stronger tone, that tone it 
must assume. For his own good, and for society's, 
divine and human laws have committed the child to 
parental care, — that is to say, have made parental 
faithfulness responsible for him ; and he must not 
be suffered to go on to harm himself or others, for 
want of a discipline, sufficiently, according as the 
need is, peremptory, or even severe. ' His father 
had not displeased him at any time, in saying, why 
hast thou done so,' is the record of the early life of 
that son of David, who grew up to be his own ruin, 
and his father's bitter sorrow. 

The most definite among the kinds of influence, 
to be exerted in conducting a religious education, 
have been specified. There remain others, which it 
would be in vain to undertake to particularize, in 
anything like a complete enumeration. Among sit- 
uations, for instance, in which, by the express decis- 
ion of his parents, or as a consequence of other ar- 
rangements of theirs, a young person may be placed, 
some will be more auspicious, or more adverse, than 
others, to his religious well-being ; and a most seri- 
ous regard is to be had to their tendencies of this 
kind. His companions, and his books, of the selec- 
tion of both which, parents may and should take 
cognizance and care, will exert a very powerful in- 
fluence on his mind. The pains which a parent 
takes, in exposing to a child's comprehension the 
good and bad immediate results of his own or of 
others' right or wrong conduct, are never lost ; and 



268 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

the very tone, and expression of countenance, with 
which, in the freedom of fireside discourse, the 
judgments and feelings of a good mind are expressed, 
have themselves a contagious virtue, to possess the 
youthful listener with the love of truth and good- 
ness. 

II. We proceed, in the second place, to some con- 
sideration of the spirit, in w 7 hich that provision for a 
child of which we are speaking, the provision of a 
moral and religious discipline, ought to be made. 
And, to this point, I know not what more compre- 
hensive and exact rule could possibly be given, than 
that which we find in the apostle's words, where he 
says, ' Parents, provoke not your children to wrath, 
but bring them up in the nurture and admonition of 
the Lord.' The spirit of a religious education is 
not to be stern and vexatious, but a spirit of love 
and tenderness. 

1. Not that we are, by any means, to infer from 
this direction, my hearers, that no violence is to be 
done to a child's wishes, nor the risk of exciting its 
displeasure ever to be taken. Such an indulgence, 
as we have had occasion again and again to observe 
in the course of these remarks, would in the end 
prove to be anything rather than kindness ; and thus 
construing the former clause of the precept, we 
should make it impossible to pay obedience to the 
last, which enjoins that children be reared up in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord. Nay, such a 
pernicious indulgence infallibly defeats its own aim. 
To place no restraint upon a child, to attempt to 
gratify all its caprices, is a sure way to keep it in a 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 269 

state of continual provocation to wrath. The ex- 
perience of such indulgence does nothing more 
surely, than teach self-indulgence, which is the pa- 
rent of all uneasiness and discontents. It seems 
strangely to be a secret from some persons, but a 
truth undoubtedly it is, that to make a child habit- 
ually impatient and wrathful, and therefore of course 
unhappy, the specific is, to let his wishes be a law. 
That most intolerable nuisance to others and burden 
to himself, a spoiled child, is no other than an in- 
discreetly indulged child. The deference, which has 
been shown to him, has made him proud on his 
diminutive scale ; and pride is the most irritable 
habit of the mind. Unused to having his desires 
denied, he has no motive to attempt to restrict 
them within any limits. Unrestricted, left to a per- 
fect license, it is plain that they will soon and con- 
tinually extend themselves to objects, which it is not 
possible they should attain ; and the disappointments 
which must come, and which will in such a state of 
mind come far more frequently, will be much more 
angrily resented, when indulgence has been a habit, 
and has come to be looked on as a right. Let no 
parent think of showing fondness for a child, by 
an indiscriminate acquiescence in his wishes. Dis- 
satisfaction and ill-temper, if liable to be produced 
by causeless opposition, are at least produced by 
foolish indulgence quite as often. Nay, thoughtless 
indulgencies directly lead to irritating denials ; and 
the parents, who find themselves compelled to take 
the harshest measures, are generally those whose 
plan it has been, to be all obsequiousness to their 



270 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

children's will. The course they have pursued, has 
encouraged an exacting and refractory spirit, which, 
when at length it exceeds all tolerable bounds, re- 
quires to be checked by measures of severity ; 
measures, for which occasion would never have aris- 
en, if the reins of a steady authority had not been 
resigned. For another reason, the parent who at 
one time is injudiciously compliant, is likely to be 
the same, who at another time will correct in sever- 
ity and anger. Both are natural expressions of the 
same feeble, the same irresolute or inconsiderate 
character. Hurtful fondness is but one form of self- 
indulgence, which quality is always liable, as cir- 
cumstances may direct, to take the different form of 
passionate displeasure. 

2. But, while the mischiefs of indiscreetindulgence 
deserve to be guarded against with the utmost care, too 
much pains cannot on the other hand be taken, to im- 
part instruction, and conduct parental discipline, in an 
evident spirit of gentleness and affection. To provoke 
a child to wrath, to displeasure, is so far to awaken 
a prejudice and repugnance against what is taught 
or enjoined ; and thus to frustrate one's own end. 
A stern, an absolute, or even a reserved demeanor, 
is a great obstacle to the success of endeavors to 
recommend the qualities which one prizes and ex- 
emplifies. How many virtues you make me hate, 
was a natural and just expression of the effect which 
is produced on a young and undistinguishing mind, 
by the view of real worth in a person of formal and 
austere deportment. Yet more is done, to connect 
painful and repulsive associations in the youthful 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 271 

mind, with the duties which are urged upon it, 
when, in the process of such inculcation, it is sub- 
jected to needless privations and restraints; and 
many can trace ill influences on their character, in 
relation, particularly, to their interest in religious 
truth, to errors of this nature on the part of those 
who meant them nothing but good. Still greater 
are the mischiefs of an undue severity in correction, 
or of a habit of captious and sharp rebuke. They 
create an opposition, which it is beyond them to sub- 
due. The impression once fixed in a child's mind, 
that he is unjustly treated, and discipline, from the 
quarter to which he ascribes injustice, will thence- 
forward do him little good. Unless very young, 
he has a perception, when it is under any excitement, 
that he is corrected or reproved ; and he has an in- 
stinct, that tells him that he has no cause to place 
confidence in a person under the influence of passion. 
He regards his monitor as being depressed, under 
that influence, to his own level ; as being no longer 
more than an equal, with whom he may contend. 
For the sake of preserving his authority, therefore, 
as well as to be sure of the sound exercise of his 
judgment in this important office, a parent needs to 
resolve never to undertake to correct his child in a 
moment of excited feeling. No good can come of 
it ; and, very probably, much harm will. It is a 
great mistake, none can be greater, to suppose that 
even unwelcome exercises of parental authority 
must needs provoke the subjects of it to wrath. 
On the contrary, nothing can be more certain, than 
that needful severity may wear a mien of perfect 



272 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

self-collectedness, and of kind concern for their 
good, which will soothe and inspire with confidence 
in the very moment of coercion. It is the appear- 
ance of anger, which excites opposition ; which ir- 
ritates, and estranges. — And the habit of frequent 
reproof has so far the same effect, that good judg- 
ment seems to dictate that some minor faults be for 
a time overlooked ; at least, that some things, which 
might be wished different, but which only interfere 
with the convenience of others, be passed over in 
silence, and the parent's animadversions be restricted 
to what injuriously affects the character of the child. 
3. Let tenderness be the spirit of discipline, then, 
that an intractable opposition may not be awak- 
ened, nor angry passions provoked, nor confidence 
alienated from the parent, nor repulsive associations 
attached to what is in itself so good, nor the inculca- 
tion of virtue and religion made to lose, through an 
unskilfulness in the method, any part of those ad- 
vantages which are so justly its due. But I appre- 
hend that the principal reason has not yet been 
given, why kindness, — I will say, after the remarks 
which have been made to restrict my meaning, 
why indulgence, — ought to be the pervading spirit 
of intercourse with children. I apprehend that the 
uses of a gentle spirit, in the conduct of the 
discipline in question, are not to be spoken of as 
negative or instrumental merely, consisting in the 
prevention of adverse influences, which w r ould ob- 
struct the object we are contemplating. I know of 
no more direct end in education, than to bring into 
exercise the sentiment of affection in the child ; 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 273 

and providence, in fact, seems to have made the 
most careful arrangements for drawing this forth, in 
the utterly helpless condition of early life, calling 
for tenderness to be constantly exercised, and thus 
making gratitude, and a sense of dependence, the 
main ingredients of the earliest consciousness. 
How little do some understand what they are un- 
dertaking to regulate, when, simply by a summary 
and rude coercion, they expect to put in order the 
delicate mechanism of a human mind. What have 
I gained, if through fear of myself, or under any 
other impulse of such a nature, I have made sure 
that all that the world can see of my child shall be 
what I could wish, — if I have made him an auto- 
maton, to move as I shall touch the springs, — what 
have I gained, I say, if, while I have done this, I have 
failed to give him right affections, and affections 
strong in their rectitude ? What rather have I not 
lost, — it may be feared, irrecoverably lost, — in 
depriving him of the capacity of a moral energy of 
his own, of the encouraging consciousness of a 
spontaneous virtue, and of the sense of a higher 
responsibleness than what he is under to me ? No, 
my hearers ; but open the fountain of love in your 
child's bosom, and you have not only the strongest 
hold on him for whatsoever further you desire, but 
you have already the very spirit of all religion and 
goodness, in action. Religion is love. Love to 
God and to men are its two fundamental command- 
ments. That spirit is what makes a child or a man 
a noble creature. Without it he is grovelling. Ex- 
cited in your child, it will still need regulation, for 

35 



274 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

hurtful fondnesses are corrupt forms of love. But 
that regulation you will take further care to give ; 
and till the spirit is excited, whatever else may 
have been done, has been done to very little avail. 
How is it to be excited ? Harshness will expel it, 
and supply its place with that bad brotherhood of un- 
gentle passions, which as various occasion offers, takes 
various forms, not only of what is violent, but of 
what is unmanly and mean. A stern demeanor, 
nay a cold one, will stifle it ; for youthful hearts are 
tenderer than ours, and it needs not a stormy repulse 
to drive them back wounded into their melancholy 
solitude. Neglect of the interest that spirit would 
testify, or rejection of the confidence it would repose, 
leaves it to die a slow death. How is it to be ex_ 
cited ? Not certain] v bv an indiscriminate indul- 
gence, which, as we have seen, leads to a widely 
different result from what it professes to propose ; 
but still by making the spirit of all intercourse, by 
deed and word and aspect, a spirit of indulgence, 
within all reasonable, that is to say, within all safe 
bounds ; a spirit of affection, which attends to the 
child's wishes, respects its feelings, welcomes its 
confidence, and, in short, habitually shows forth, 
itself, that sentiment of quickened and disinterested 
love, which, while it is too true to its own character 
to sacrifice important interests of its object to those 
which are inferior, still manifests that even interests 
and wishes of inferior importance are not beneath 
its notice. Let this be the spirit of a conscientious 
parent's treatment of the child, for whom he desires 
the best and surest good, because the way in which 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 275 

affectionate sentiments are insensibly inspired in one 
mind, is in requital of the same sentiments experien- 
ced in another ; and there is not a more active affin- 
ity in nature, than that by which the spirit of love, 
which, under its proper manifestations, we have said 
was the spirit of Christ's religion, communicates 
itself to a kindred bosom. 



SERMON XIX 



DUTIES OF PARENTS 



1 TIMOTHY V, 8. 

IF ANY PROVIDE NOT FOR HIS OWN, AND SPECIALLY FOR THOSE OF HIS 
OWN HOUSE, HE HATH DENIED THE FAITH, AND IS WORSE THAN AN 
INFIDEL. 

Undertaking, this morning, to consider that pro- 
vision, which a parent is bound to make for his own, 
in training them to usefulness and happiness, by 
means of a moral and religious discipline, we pro- 
posed to arrange our thoughts, under the heads of 
the nature of that provision, the spirit in which it 
should be made, and its worth. As to its nature, 
we saw that it consists in instruction, directed to 
the establishment of just, thorough, and operative 
principles of action, and in authority, example, and 
other influences exerted directly upon the practice. 
Its proper spirit we perceived to be a spirit of con- 
descension, encouragement, and tenderness ; not 
degenerating into a weak compliance, which, in ad- 
dition to its more immediate ill consequences, al- 
ways ends in frustrating the very object at which it 
aims ; but giving to instruction the best chance of 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 277 

a favorable reception into the young mind, forbear- 
ing to excite that opposition, which, rising up against 
an offensive exercise of authority, defeats its best- 
meant attempts, and above all, awakening, by a 
natural sympathy, that spirit of love which is the 
life and soul of excellence. 

III. We are to conclude the discussion of the sub- 
ject, by a few remarks at this time, on the worth 
of this part of the provision which a parent must 
labor to make for his own. 

1. And first, we may observe, that it is altogether 
indispensable to the adequate making of that pro- 
vision for their comfort at the present time, which 
in a former discourse engaged our attention. 

We own, my hearers, that it is our duty to con- 
sult for our child's happiness during the period of 
his dependence upon us. Try the experiment, or 
but consider the case, and decide if anything will 
go so far towards doing this, as to lead him in his 
earliest days along those ways of wisdom, which 
are rightly called ways of pleasantness. We speak 
what is true, but not all the truth, when we say 
that a parent is not faithful to his children as to the 
provision demanding to be made for them, if, through 
undue care for their present enjoyment, he obstructs 
their ultimate good. This statement, while it ad- 
mits that regard to eventual good must preponder- 
ate, when it requires the sacrifice of immediate 
pleasure, still recognizes them as presenting them- 
selves in opposition and conflict ; when in fact, in 
any wide, that is, in any just consideration of the 
subject, they are not, nor ever can be, so presented. 



278 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

A child, as well as a man, is a responsible being. 
He is liable, at a tender age, to experience the good 
and ill consequences of good and faulty conduct, in 
the esteem and favor, or on the other hand, the dis- 
like and privations, which they will respectively bring 
on him ; still more, in the approbation or reproaches 
of the monitor within, the peace and cheerfulness 
which naturally attend on the consciousness of pure 
and generous motives, and the gloom and restless- 
ness which cloud and vex a mean or malignant 
spirit. There is a joy in the very doing of a right 
act, and a pain in each transgression, independent 
of that reflex act of the mind which either applauds 
or rebukes them ; and the life which is made up of 
a succession of these sensations, according as they 
are of the one character or the other, is at first, as 
well as at last, a happy or a wretched life. Yes, 
my hearers, think not that to persevere in a method- 
ical discipline, directed to bring up children in the 
nurture and admonition of the Lord, is to provoke 
them to wrath, or depress them into gloom. It is 
through the unskilfulness of the discipline, if any 
such effect appear. Think not that to leave their 
feelings unrestrained, is to procure them pleasure. 
It is the one sure way to mar it. The best child, 
and of course I take christian goodness for the 
standard, the best is the happiest child. The most 
cheerful young person will be found the same with 
the most dutiful, and affectionate, and, according to 
his years, devout young person ; and the parent who 
should simply wish to make sure of his children's 
enjoying themselves from day today, would even on 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 279 

that ground find the most absolute obligation upon 
him, to train them to the power of self-command, 
and to the sentiment of love to God and to their as- 
sociates. 

2. The same will appear, without any extended 
illustration, in reference to the second particular of 
the temporal provision due from a parent to his 
own ; namely, provision for their suitable establish- 
ment in life. 

Fortunes are what profligacy may soon squander ; 
and, indeed, the greater they are, the greater so far 
the temptation to profligacy, and the more urgent 
the need of the safeguard of good principles, lest 
they should be squandered, were this all. Talents, 
besides that they are a provision which parents can- 
not make, — when they are seen to be put to an 
unprincipled use, only excite the greater dread, dis- 
trust and opposition ; and the public distrust is an 
obstacle to his advancement, stronger than any man, 
with any talents, can promise himself successfully 
to contend against. Information and skill, which 
are capable of being imparted, are doubtless strong 
agents of worldly prosperity, in the proper hands ; 
but when suspicion attaches to him who would 
profit by them, they are divested of much of their 
usual efficacy. And so of address, and of other ex- 
ternal accomplishments. They are excellent addi- 
tions and aids to a good character, but, in connexion 
with a bad one, will scarcely yield any of what pass 
for substantial worldly benefits. Besides all which, 
the very virtues of diligent use of time, of forbear- 
ance from wasteful indigencies, and of integrity, 



280 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

which is the wisest policy, have no such trustworthy 
foundation as in christian principle ; and that favor 
of other men, on which every individual's prosperity 
is wisely made in no small degree to depend, is so 
surely to be won by nothing else, as by the unosten- 
tatious exhibition of a worthy life. 

Were the question then asked me by any anxious 
parent, what he should do to establish his child well 
in the world, I would say for a fundamental rule, 
bring him up in the fear of God. Make him, if 
you can, a devout, and so an honest, kind-hearted 
and faithful youth. Thus apprized of his obligation 
to administer well his stewardship of the faculties 
and opportunities which God has given, and of his 
obligation to do his full part for the happiness of 
his friends, and of all men, you have made sure of 
the great thing, his own strenuous exertions. You 
have made sure, as far as may be, that he will not 
be turned from his prosperous course by what are 
so often the ruinous vices of youth ; but, on the 
contrary, will pursue it with the immense power of 
a clear, sound, and hopeful mind. And you have 
made sure, as far as in you lies, that having, for his 
irreproachable course, every one's good will and 
word, he will have too, as occasion offers, every 
one's helping hand. There is, in the first place, a 
good disposition to encourage merit. But besides, 
what may seem more to be depended on, it is for 
men's interest to do it. A peculiar state of things 
may for a time create an exception. But, for a gen- 
eral rule, there are tasks of usefulness and advance- 
ment enough in an active country like this, waiting 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 281 

for those, whose faithfulness to others' interests men 
know that they can trust ; and in all cases, of what- 
ever kind, where a desirable event to one individual 
depends on the personal preference of some other, 
all persons, it may be said, who are capable of con- 
ferring a real benefit, are powerfully influenced to 
that preference by a perception of worth of char- 
acter, and will in no case permit themselves to dis- 
pense with it, whatever other claim, or cause for 
partiality, there may be. 

3. Again ; as to the temporal provision which it 
is our duty to make for our own, we are bound, as 
was remarked on a former occasion, to do what we 
may, towards making the life which has been be- 
stowed by us, throughout, a happy life. The child, 
whose character may yet be our formation, whose 
dispositions may yet be checked or drawn out, and 
led into a permanent bent, by influences going forth 
from us, — nay, whose mind is continually receiving 
sentiments and principles by direct transmission 
from our minds, — whose habits are daily moulding 
into a shape of stubborn fixedness by our example, — 
it may be, our unconscious, and, by ourselves, un- 
watched example, — that child is directly to be be- 
yond our control or protection, perhaps beyond our 
view. Our days will have been numbered, or, if 
not so, we shall have no longer a right to interfere 
with him, but by our advice, or for him with other 
men, but by our persuasions. What is it, by which 
his happiness, when we can no longer take any, or 
any but the most imperfect, care of it, — what is it, 
by which his happiness will then be far most mate- 

36 



282 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

rially affected, whether for good or evil ? 1 find no 
room to hesitate in saying, that it is by what we are 
doing for him now. 

A few years hence, perhaps, in the near prospect 
of separation, we shall be disturbing ourselves about 
the question, what are to be his future fortunes in 
the world. It will be to no purpose that we enter- 
tain this anxiety then. We can do no more for 
him then, than leave him with our helpless prayers to 
the care of a good providence. Our departure, indeed, 
makes little difference as to the decision of the ques- 
tion. We could do next to nothing then, towards 
determining it according to our wishes, if we should 
live. Our wisdom would be to bring it now solemn- 
ly to our minds, while we are able to do something, 
to do much, for its happy solution. Our child is to 
go from us, whether we live or die, as surely as time 
continues to move on, till it has made a few steps 
further, — is to go from us on the theatre of exposed 
and responsible life. We are not to suppose that 
all men will feel for him as we do. The world, we 
may trust, will not treat him harshly, but it is to be 
expected that it will treat him no better than justly. 
We are pained, when we think of his meeting with 
reproach, and enraged opposition, and wounding in- 
dignities ; but if he deserves them, what is then 
to save him from them ? And if it were through 
our fault or remissness, while yet we might have 
made it otherwise, that he was trained or left to 
deserve them, does not the blame come back upon 
ourselves ? Is there not a weighty sense, in which 
the opposition that will assail him is our act, and the 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 283 

pain he suffers from it, our unnatural visitation ? Or 
suppose such evils come on him without his deserv- 
ing them, does not all our strong sympathy dictate 
the wish, that, under such trying circumstances, he 
may have all supports which are availing and acces- 
sible ? And what are those supports, except such 
as we ought now, by anticipation, to be providing for 
him, the supports of a good conscience, a trust in 
God, and a hope of heaven ? And suppose that he 
meets with no such trials, still it is likely that he 
will have his share of others, which belong to the 
common lot, disappointments, sickness, bereavement, 
and solicitude ; and then every feeling w r hich we 
have, that we would be prompt at his side, if we 
might, for all offices of friendship, dictates to us, if 
we will interpret it attentively, to attach to him, 
while yet we may, that effective and never-failing 
friend, who will do all for him that an angel could 
do, if we could give him a guardian angel always to 
attend his steps, the spirit of confiding resignation to 
God's holy will. 

AVe w ould ask for our children, my hearers, — it 
is an instinct of a parent's heart, — we would ask 
for them an eminently prosperous life. Let not our 
feeling for them foolishly expend itself in wishes. 
Let us take care for putting them in possession of 
what in their behalf we so desire. It pleases God 
to call for our agency in giving them that which is 
to brighten the brightest, and cheer the gloomiest 
lot ; nay, with which there is joy in the darkest 
passages of life, and without which, what we call 
prosperity has little pow r er to impart a pleasure. 



284 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

To say no more of the religious spirit, as an armor 
against many of the evils of life, and a balm to as- 
suage the keenness of the rest, the disposition to 
useful activity which it creates, and the estimation 
which the exercise of this disposition brings, are 
themselves far the greatest blessings attendant on 
the happiest fortune. An unprincipled man is his own 
cruel enemy ; and what we speak of, as prosperous 
circumstances of his condition, are in his hands but 
so many added powers of action, with which he 
only afflicts himself the more. A man without the 
feeling that he is responsible for making a beneficial 
as well as harmless use of his prosperity, is none the 
better for it, but the contrary. His mind pampers 
and wears upon itself. What others, looking at him, 
call a condition of ease, he finds to be a condition 
of restlessness and disturbance. It would be happier 
for him to be pressed by some wants, which should 
impel his spirit to some action. Usefulness is the 
spirit of prosperity, which gives prosperity a title 
to its name. He is the enviable prosperous man, 
w 7 ho, in a conscientious use of his good fortune, 
gives a happy action to his own mind, enjoys his 
generous feelings in largely promoting others' good, 
and feasts upon the cordial oflering of their well- 
earned respect and gratitude. He, and no one of a 
different spirit, is the enviable and happy prosperous 
man ; and the parent, who in providing all other 
prosperity for his children, has failed to make that 
provision without which prosperity is no blessing, — 
it needs not be said, that that parent has fallen short, 
by a wide distance, of his aim. 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 285 

4. Confining our attention, then, to the several ob- 
jects which a parent's affection bids him contemplate 
for his child, in relation to the well-being of the 
present life, we see that no one of them is capable 
of being secured, but through the instrumentality of 
a religious discipline. But, in so saving, we have told 
but a small portion of its worth. A young mind is 
an immortal essence. What we call a child, is a 
being that is never to die, nor ever, through endless 
ages, to lose its present consciousness. The prin- 
ciples which here it imbibes are seeds, which are to 
bear their ripening fruit through the perpetual sea- 
son of eternity. 

We see, my hearers, — observation of our own, 
and the recorded experience of the world has shown 
us, — that we have to a great extent the worldly 
destiny of our children in our hands ; that, in great 
measure, according as we are now faithful or not to 
our parental duties, is their prospect of future hap- 
piness and honor, or misery and shame in life. Is 
it not equally true, that to us is committed the sol- 
emn trust of an influence over the character of their 
prolonged existence in the coming world ? No 
doubt, God will make more equitable allowance 
than men, for disadvantages under which our un- 
faithfulness may have placed them. But, — not 
to say that this is no justification to us, — is any- 
thing, that we do not see, more certain, than that 
condition hereafter is to be determined by character 
formed here ; that the righteous and the wicked 
mind, is, in the life to come, as well as in this, to 
work out for itself results of happiness or woe, only 



286 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

with far more directness, certainty, and power, and 
over a far greater extent of operation ? And is 
anything else more certain, than that among external 
influences, which go to fix that moral bias of the 
mind, the strongest may be a parent's ? Is there 
any doubt, that, whatever God's mercy may do for 
him in consideration of his unhappiness, if so it be, 
in having been committed to us, — is there any doubt, 
I say, that if our child be early taken from our care, 
the character which he carries to judgment, his in- 
herent capacity or incapacity for happiness, will be 
essentially our formation, as far as earthly influence 
has been concerned ? And if he be spared to years, 
when he will be capable of spiritual provision for 
himself, and subject but to his own control, still is 
there any doubt, that the bias, early given to his 
mind, will continue to be a great blessing or calami- 
ty, furthering or hindering his endeavors for himself ; 
and even if, by a singular vigor of his own, and a 
special grace of God, he should succeed in releasing 
himself from toils of bad principle or practice, in 
which our negligence had suffered him to be bound, 
still can this seem any extenuation of our sin in the 
hazard to which we had exposed him ? 

No, my hearers ; there is no such thing as over- 
stating the importance of a parent's faithfulness to 
his child, as a religious being. Among all commis- 
sions for mutual service, I cannot see that God has 
committed to man any trust, in which results more 
momentous are involved. When I think of the 
consequences, which, by strict, and all-embracing 
and irrevocable laws, inevitably follow on good and 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 287 

bad qualities and conduct, — the long, and still 
lengthening train of consequences which are to at- 
tend on them through the successive years of this, 
and ages of the coming life, — when 1 think that 
the mind thus makes, or rather is, a world to itself, 
and that the unformed mind is for a parent's form- 
ing, — it seems to me that he who is invested with 
that trust cannot be warned to be faithful with too 
solemn an admonition, cannot be conjured to be 
faithful with too earnest an entreaty. I hear you 
speak, my friends, of the responsibility of a min- 
ister of the gospel, and I humbly trust that I am not 
insensible to its greatness. But in regard to its re- 
lation to any individual mind, I hold it to be almost 
unspeakably little, compared with the responsibility 
of a parent. For a parent has authority over his 
child. The mind, which is given him to influence, 
is in the earliest and most flexible period of its form- 
ation ; a blank page, for him to inscribe, almost at 
will, with fair, or with frightful characters. His re- 
lation inspires deference, and may be made to en- 
sure assent, to what he teaches. His vigilance is 
almost always present, to be adapted to varying cir- 
cumstances. The benefits, for which a constant 
reliance must be placed on him, and the gratitude 
they excite, favor a ready reception of his senti- 
ments and counsels ; and his example, such as it 
may be, is an influence in almost perpetual exercise. 
And then, to repeat it, the mind which he is thus 
forming is no less than an immortal existence, about 
to be entrusted with the present and final determi- 
nation of its own lot, as far as it remains undeter- 



288 DUTIES OF PARENTS. 

mined under the parent's care. In such a case, it 
seems scarcely necessary to insist on the christian 
obligation of fidelity to a high trusl ; or to urge the 
solemnity of the engagement expressed in the bap- 
tismal rite ; or to enlarge on that appeal to the 
profound est emotions of the heart, which lies in the 
very words, — a parent's love. It would seem 
enough to address one's self to the most superficial 
sense of the common duties of humanity, and ask 
on that ground, whether any one could think of 
permitting the obligations of such a trust, for conse- 
quences affecting another through time and through 
eternity, to be slighted, or to be ill discharged. 

To ask of you but one moment more ; — if a pa- 
rent's duty calls for such cares as these ; if the very 
claims of humanity will not be silenced, while they 
are disregarded ; if, without them, the very ends for 
which the parental relation was instituted, fail of 
their accomplishment, and the natural sentiment of 
parental love does not perform its office ; then, ray 
friends, there is much discipline, to which we must 
subject ourselves, in preparation for extending its 
benefits to our children. Those principles which 
we would communicate, we must adopt, and pos- 
sess, and comprehend, and act upon. Those applica- 
tions of them which we would recommend, we 
must have considered. That foundation on which 
we would establish them, we must have approved 
on our own examination. The example, by which 
we would influence, to which we would attract, that 
example, of course, we must set. The authority, 
which we would discreetly and prosperously exert, 



DUTIES OF PARENTS. 289 

we must qualify ourselves for exerting, by our 
personal culture of the evangelical spirit of power, 
and of love, and of a sound mind. Finally, that wis- 
dom and that blessing from above, which we shall 
find that we want, to guide and prosper our exer- 
tions, that wisdom and that blessing we shall see 
cause, in an exigency so urgent, to supplicate in 
habitual and earnest prayer. We must be very 
good christians, — we must be enlightened and ex- 
perienced christians, — to be such parents as we 
ought ; and if there were no other motive, where 
there are so many, to excite us to become so, this 
alone might deserve to be accounted motive suffi- 
cient ; for if parental cares be prospered for us, 
there is no one, in the enjoyment of any other hap- 
piness, whom we shall see much cause to envy. 
There is little which he needs care to add to his 
possessions, who sees the minds, which he has 
reared, an honor and a blessing to the world. But 
it is only a foretaste of his reward, which he is yet 
enjoying. If there is any proportion between fu- 
ture recompenses, and the amount of good which 
here has been conscientiously done, the religious 
parent of a religious child would seem destined to 
a high eminence in the world of bliss ; and the joy 
which, above all others, a christian parent's heart 
would be prone to covet, is that, which he may 
trust awaits it, of a renewed and inseparable union 
with a child, exalted through his instrumentality 
to the company of angels. 

37 



SERMON XX. 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN 



EPHESIANS VI, 2. 

HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER, WHICH IS THE FIRST COMMANDMENT 

WITH PROMISE. 

In the latter clause of the text, St Paul, as is 
well understood, refers to a peculiarity in the man- 
ner of enforcement of the fifth precept of the dec- 
alogue, found in its being sanctioned by the promise 
of a blessing to follow on its observance. 

It deserves also to be remarked concerning this 
commandment, that it stands at the head of the 
laws of the second table, as they are styled ; that is, 
those which, in prescribing social duties, duties which 
man owes to man, are distinguished from the four 
commandments of the first table, which relate to 
the service due immediately from man to God. 
Its claim to that place of eminence, where it is 
found, may willingly be conceded. Of all our rel- 
ative duties, that which we owe our parents is, in 
some sense, at the foundation. It is first in the 
order of time. The filial relation we assume, the 
moment we are in existence ; and it is the only one 
of immediate interest which we do then assume. 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 29 1 

It is, for a time, the highest of all in importance. 
It is that, on which the continuance of our existence 
depends ; for if our parents were unfaithful on their 
part to the duties it implies, negligent in the care it 
devolves on them, we should not live a day. It is 
the basis of that parental authority, by which, in 
infancy and childhood, is impressed on us the obliga- 
tion of keeping the other commandments, and by 
which most men are trained up to virtue, who are 
trained up to it at all. And as the filial is the first 
important human relation which we assume, so the 
observance or neglect of its duties affords credible 
augury of the manner, in which the other relations 
of life will be sustained. The affectionate obedi- 
ent son bids fair to be a faithful husband and a kind 
father, a constant friend and obliging neighbor, an 
indulgent superior and honest agent ; and even if 
that be no better than a fiction of philosophy, which 
traces the origin of civil government to the parental 
authority, still thus much may be predicted with no 
little confidence, that the undutiful child will make 
a refractory subject or a turbulent citizen. 

The duties of children towards their parents, of 
which I am to-day to speak, while in many respects 
they continue at all periods the same, are in some 
respects modified according to the age of the former. 
In the first years of the life of the child, the office 
of his parent is that of a complete guardianship ; 
not indeed an absolute, unlimited authority, as it 
has sometimes been misunderstood to be, — for in- 
stance in the Roman law, which gave the parent 
power of life and death over the child, — but an 



292 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

authority extending to everything except the destruc- 
tion of life, happiness or virtue. The good of the child 
requires that he should be subjected to such a control. 
The informed and practised discretion of his natural 
guardians must make up for a time for the want of it in 
himself. He must do right at first from implicit obedi- 
ence, in order that he may do right at last from judgment 
and from habit. The state of things is considerably 
changed, when he has attained to an ability to judge 
and provide for himself, and has come in his turn to 
assume the trusts and various relations of society. 
Part of the parent's office is then fulfilled, and ceases ; 
and with it ceases the dependence of the child. 
The head of a family is not required to consult his 
parents respecting its regulation, nor has a public 
officer a right to be decided by their discretion, in 
what manner he shall execute his trust. As long 
as we are subjects of education, w T e owe our parents 
implicit obedience, because without such obedience 
education cannot be effectually carried on. As long 
as we continue under their roof, we owe them obe- 
dience as members of the household of which they 
are the heads. When, in the natural course of things, 
we are of an age to be dismissed from their disci- 
pline and protection, and become, as the phrase is, 
our own masters, we are no longer required to be 
absolutely governed in our conduct by their pleasure. 
That responsibility for our actions, which, while we 
w T ere yet in our pupilage, rested with them our nat- 
ural governors, then is devolved on us ; and as we 
must act for ourselves, we must, in the last resort, 
judge for ourselves. But, altered at this period as 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 293 

in some particulars our duty towards them is, still 
important duties remain to be fulfilled. We still 
owe all that consideration to their opinions, all that 
sympathy to their feelings, all that regard to their 
inclinations, all that indulgence to their weaknesses, 
all that assiduous exertion to the promotion of their 
happiness, which are due to the kindest and most 
generous benefactors we have ever known ; and 
though their will is no longer what it once was, our 
law, it ought to be a cherished and anxious purpose 
of our minds, to consult and fulfil their wishes. 
Are they poor ? There should scarcely be a desire 
nearer our hearts, than to minister to their support 
and comfort. Are they in obscurity ? However 
they may seem to others, we at least are bound to 
honor them. Are they solitary ? They have 
a right to our society and attentions. Are they 
slandered or wronged ? We are their vindicators. 
Are they sick, afflicted, aged ? We should never 
be missed at their side. We should not leave to 
others the truly filial task to dry their tears, and 
sustain their failing steps. Where shall they look 
for such services, if not to their children ? and who, 
like a child, can soothe a parent's grief, beguile his 
long hours of infirmity and pain, and make his 
sinking heart elate and happy ? Even the ingenu- 
ous young person, who honors his parent by a prompt 
and confiding obedience, is not a sight, on which 
the eye of God or man rests with such profound 
complacency, as he who, arrived at maturer years, 
and busy with the cares or distinguished by the 
honors of society, turns back to bend in affectionate 



294 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

reverence before the hoary head of the benefactors 
of his childhood ; to uphold the tottering limbs that 
in their manly vigor bore his infant weight, and 
gladden the aged heart that had so often trembled 
and throbbed and bled for him. And scarcely is 
there a feeling, with which an approving con- 
science rewards the good man so richly, as in the re- 
collection that by his dutiful care a parent's fire- 
side has been cheered, a parent's wants supplied, a 
parent's infirmities sustained, a parent's sick bed 
watched, a parent's dying blessing faithfully earned, 
a parent's grave peacefully made. 

Happy beyond all the happiness, which the gains 
of a busy, or the frivolities of a gay life can afford, 
he who can thus acquit his obligations to the bene- 
factors of his earlier years, by the devoted services 
of his ripened life. But the number of them to 
whom the lengthened years of their parents permit 
this enviable privilege, is comparatively small ; and 
it is to those therefore who are yet the objects of 
parental tutelage, that the text chiefly addresses 
itself. My young friends, there is, to say the least, 
no subject, which is more appropriate to your age, 
and scarcely any which has a stronger claim to your 
attention. 

I. The precept enjoins on you that you honor 
your father and mother ; and this means, first, that 
you should entertain in your minds, and show in all 
your conduct, a cordial respect for them. 

You should on no occasion suffer yourselves to 
forget, that you are bound to treat them with a stud- 
ied deference. Nothing is more beautiful in a child, 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 295 

and nothing more sure 'to attract the approbation 
and good-will of all who witness it, than an unas- 
suming respectful demeanor towards his parents ; 
as, on the other hand, scarcely anything is more of- 
fensive in your age, than a bold and forward, or still 
worse, a wilful and petulant deportment. If it were 
only for their superiority over you in years and sta- 
tion, this would be enough to give them a title to 
your respect. Reverence for age has at all times 
been reckoned a duty ; and the wantonness, which 
does violence to that sentiment, is one from which 
every good heart revolts. But it is not only that 
your parents are older than you, and that they have 
that information, that experience of life, and that 
standing in society, which you want, — that they are 
superiors, and you inferiors, — it is not only on these 
accounts that you owe them respect. God, in giv- 
ing you to them, has constituted them your gover- 
nors and guides ; and he calls on you to regard them 
in that character, and to consider them, in that 
character, your superiors, no less than on account of 
their greater experience, knowledge and dignity. 
It is not necessary that you should regard them with 
awe, far less with dread ; but it is your duty to look 
up to them with reverence ; never to let the famil- 
iarity, in which they may indulge you, degenerate 
into rudeness ; never to reply to their rebukes in the 
indecorous language of discontent and anger ; 
above all, never to be guilty of the impious wan- 
tonness of diverting yourselves with any peculiari- 
ties, which may belong to them ; but on the contra- 
ry, by your modest and respectful behaviour, your 



296 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

unassuming and courteous language, your cheerful 
and grateful deportment when praised, and your 
penitent submission when reproved, by asking for 
what you desire with humility, and submitting to 
the denial of it without complaint, to show that you 
understand how venerable is that relation in which 
your parents stand to you, and how becoming in 
you is that honor which they claim at your hands. 

II. Honor your father and mother, in the second 
place, by confiding in them. 

There is no way, in which you can more easily 
and fully satisfy your parents that you honor them, 
than by entrusting to them whatever concerns you ; 
acquainting them with your hopes and disappoint- 
ments ; informing them who are your companions, 
and what your amusements, and submitting to them 
your little plans. What person is there, think you, 
to whom you may tell your secrets so properly as 
to a parent ? Who is there, that will take so true 
an interest in what interests you ? Who will be so 
likely to advise you right, and who will so cheer- 
fully assist you in any innocent undertaking you 
may propose ? Why should not your parents know 
who your associates and what your amusements 
are, when they can have no other desire than that 
you may be happy, if you can but at the same time 
be innocent ? Go to them then without reserve, as 
to your most attached, and at. the same time most 
judicious friends ; and show that you honor them by 
reposing in them an unlimited trust. There is noth- 
ing that goes further than this, towards making the 
connexion between parent and child happy. Nev- 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 297 

er let any other confidant take the place, in your 
hearts, of that safest and most affectionate confidant, 
a parent. It is all a delusion if you do so, as will 
sooner or later appear, to your deep regret. A child 
is in the way to remorse and shame, as soon as he 
has secrets which a parent may not know. The 
false friend, in whom he does trust, can have no 
good design, in persuading him to withhold his con- 
fidence, where nature and manifold added obligations 
have made it due. Expect no blessing on a pur- 
pose, w r hich you determine to hide from your parents. 
Above all, never let the thoughtlessness of youth 
permit you to withhold anything from them by any 
dishonest means. Shun this, as your most fatal 
snare. The child who begins with the practice of 
deliberate deceit, — it is fearful to think where he 
will end. If you love your parents, take it for a 
rule, that in no other way can you make them more 
happy, than in letting them see that you are ingenu- 
ous ; that you love truth. Whatever fault you 
may commit, you can scarcely commit any of so 
high a character, but that the pain your parents will 
feel, in knowing that you have been guilty of it, will 
be greatly alleviated by finding you frank enough to 
confess it, and greatly aggravated by seeing you re- 
sort to hypocritical arts of concealment. Believe 
me, my young friends, — and if I could persuade you 
to receive but one lesson at my hands, it would still 
be this, — that falsehood is not only the meanest 
thing in the world, but that artifice and disingenu- 
ousness in a child are the sure presage of all base- 
ness in the man, and love of truth in a child, the al- 

33 



298 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

most sure promise of a noble generous character in 
maturer life. Practice the first, and who will be so 
vile as to esteem you ? Practice the last, and where 
will be the man high enough to look down upon 
you? 

III. The apostle, who wrote our text, specifies a 
third way of honoring your father and mother. 
' Children obey your parents in all things ; for this is 
well-pleasing to the Lord.' 

1 have hinted at the leading reason, why you 
ought to obey your parents ; because you are en- 
trusted to them by God above, in order to be formed 
by them for usefulness in this world, and happiness 
in the world to come. For this reason he has im- 
planted parental fondness in their hearts, so that, 
though it costs them much pains, expense and anxi- 
ety, many toilsome days and wakeful nights, they 
are yet willing to control and instruct you. And 
for this reason you are made weak and dependent 
on their care, in order that, even if you are perverse, 
they may be able to maintain the requisite authority 
over you. It is needless for me to prove to you, 
that it is your duty to render them obedience, or 
that you are pleasing in the sight of God and men, 
when you do it, and displeasing when you do it not. 
This you all understand and admit. You have 
learned it in the earliest instructions you remember 
to have received from your parents' lips. You have 
learned it further from the peace of mind, the light- 
ness of heart, you have always felt when you have 
been dutiful, and the shame and remorse which have 
invariably punished every instance of disobedience. 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 299 

But I would impress on you, that your obedience 
ought to be prompt and consistent. Why would 
you be backward to obey your parents ? Are they 
likely to command anything which is not for your 
good ; or how are you more likely to do yourselves 
a harm than by disobeying them ? Think it not 
enough then to do as you are positively directed, or 
avoid what you are strictly charged to abstain from. 
Be not content with obeying, merely because you 
are afraid to do otherwise. This is a mean motive, 
and shows that you respect and love your best 
friends, as little as you are inclined to be guided by 
them. But let their wishes, once expressed or even 
understood by you, be your rule. Their task is hard 
enough, however dutiful they may find you. Much 
as you may second their efforts, by a ready submis- 
sion to their will when declared, you little think 
how many gloomy moments of anxiety they suffer, 
lest their cares for you should after all be defeated ; 
lest the temptations of a more exposed age should 
undo their work ; lest the bad dispositions they have 
been endeavoring to repress should spring up again, 
and the good principles they have been endeavoring 
to infuse, should lose ground as you grow older. 
Do not add to their already severe task, by your own 
intractableness. Lighten it, by furthering, all in 
your power, their affectionate designs and wishes 
for you, by your docility, your desire to be directed, 
and willingness to be reproved. Not only never 
disobey, but always obey with an instant assent and 
a placid countenance. This will not only render 
your own course easier in saving you from that se- 



300 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

verity, which your refractoriness would make 
necessary, but it will make you the delight and pride 
of your parents, and still more will encourage them 
in their arduous undertaking of forming your char- 
acter, and thus tend to make you better while it 
makes them happier. And it will excite in them a 
sentiment of confidence in you, than which nothing 
can be more gratifying to your honest pride of char- 
acter. They will be sure that they need not keep 
a jealous watch over your conduct, that they may 
venture to trust you out of their sight ; for that, 
obeying in the spirit you do, you will obey out of 
their presence, as faithfully as before their eyes. 
It may well be a cause, — t should not say of pride, — 
but of generous satisfaction to a child, if this is the 
light in which he knows he is viewed by his parents ; 
if such is the undoubting reliance, of which he has 
made himself the object on their part. What no- 
bler object of ambition can any one of you propose 
to himself, my young friends, than the reputation 
of being one whom his parents can fully trust, and 
be as sure of their injunctions being followed in 
their absence, as if they were watching by his 
side? 

IV. Honor your father and mother, in the fourth 
place, by consulting for their happiness by all 
methods within your power. 

Besides that most direct way of making them 
happy, that of letting them see your own dutiful 
deportment and worthy character, there are others 
of perpetual occurrence, too various to mention, 
but which you will be at no loss to discover, when 



DUTIES OF CHILD HEN. 301 

you are properly impressed with the duty ; and no 
child, who is old enough to understand the duty, is 
too young to be able to fulfil it. Have their hap- 
piness at heart, you will find abundance of expedi- 
ents of your own to promote it. Not a day passes, 
that does not bring opportunities of rendering them 
at least some trifling service, which, if it have no 
other value, has that of showing your good-will ; 
and to be shown this alone, makes them happy. 
You may be always saving them expense by your 
prudence, and trouble by your inoffensive behaviour. 
If you are on the watch for opportunities, much 
earlier than you have perhaps supposed, you may begin 
to make yourselves positively useful, to an important 
extent ; and the smallest services you render will 
be sure to have a double value in their eyes, for 
having been rendered by you. How proud is that 
parent, who is able to show his friends, that trusts, 
which others are obliged to commit to more expe- 
rienced mercenary management, he is able to repose 
in his children. As soon as they have taught you 
to pray, you should express your wishes for their 
happiness, in supplications for them at the throne of 
grace; and if there be any prayer likely to ascend 
with special prevalence to the mercy seat, well may 
it be believed to be that, which is offered by youth- 
ful piety for the protectors of its helpless years. 

V. Once more ; honor your father and mother, my 
young friends, by a character of early piety. 

To see you respectable, useful and good, is the 
consummation of all their labors, sacrifices and wishes 
for you. It is an abundant recompense for all their 



302 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

anxiety, and will cause their grey hairs to descend 
in peace and dignity to the grave. In no way can 
you render them a more distinguished honor, for in no 
way can you bear a louder attestation to the fidelity 
of their parental cares, than in showing, hy your own 
religious life, that you have been amply profited by 
such cares. Your virtue will do the best honor to your 
father and mother, for it will be reflected on them. 
It will cause all, who see your worth, to mark them 
as persons deserving that high encomium, of being 
faithful to their parental trust. All will say, that 
they took seasonable care to fix in the minds of their 
children the principles of integrity and religion. 
How commonly do you hear it inferred, concerning 
a person of eminent virtue, that he must have been 
well brought up ; and on the other hand, how nat- 
urally does the suspicion arise, when you see a man 
whom no one esteems, that his parents were negli- 
gent or faulty in his early discipline. Be careful, 
my young friends, to save your parents from this dis- 
grace. Be ambitious to confer on them this dis- 
tinction. Beware of doing them that great dishonor, 
of causing your vices to bring suspicion upon them. 
Take heed, by your blameless and religious lives, to 
signalize them by that title, which they feel to be so 
eminently desirable, that of parents of excellent 
children. 1 f you honor them, show your respect, — if 
you love them, testify your affection, — by causing 
them to see, that they are honored by those whom 
others honor, that they are beloved by those whom 
others love, whom God himself loves ; by giving 
them satisfaction in vour conduct in life ; by saving 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 303 

them from concern for your eternal fate. The 
credit and the feelings of them, to whom you owe 
everything, are in your hands. It is for you to honor 
them by your virtues, or shame them by your sins. 
There is no indignity, which so burns and rankles 
in a parent's mind, as the reproach of the crimes or 
follies of them to whom he has given birth. There 
is no glory the world can give, like that reflected on 
him by the virtuous and religious character of a 
child. And if there be any moment, at which a re- 
ligious parent's heart dilates with the proudest sat- 
isfaction he may ever know, at which he feels that 
he has become possessed of a distinction beyond 
which the world can bestow none more enviable, it 
is that, when he sees the children, whom a few years 
since he brought unconscious infants to the baptis- 
mal font, to pray that the shepherd of souls might 
receive them into his fold, now coming to take their 
places by his side at the sacramental table of their 
common Lord. There is only one place, where he 
would more desire to meet them ; only one, where their 
presence would be felt to confer on him a truer and 
more grateful honor ;' — and there they have already 
given him a well-grounded hope that he will meet 
them in due time, — at the right hand of an approv- 
ing God, in the company of the just made perfect. 



SERMON XXI. 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN 



EPHESIANS VI, 2. 

HONOR THY FATHER AND MOTHER, WHICH IS THE FIRST COMMANDMENT 

WITH PROMISE. 

Having attempted, this morning, to explain the 
duty, which is enjoined by the apostle in this pre- 
cept, I proceed, at this time, to some considerations 
designed to recommend and enforce it. In other 
words, having pointed out how children should hon- 
or their father and mother, I am now to show why 
they should so honor them. 

L I may observe, then, in the first place, that a pa- 
rent has a right to such honor from his children, as 
has been described, founded on the relation itself, 
in which he stands to them. In consequence of 
that relation, an obligation is devolved upon him to 
provide for, to protect, and to educate them. For 
the faithful discharge of these his duties, he is re- 
sponsible to society, and to God ; but, in order to 
be able to discharge them, it is necessary that he 
have a claim to the submission of his children. 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 305 

The j must so honor him, that he may have them 
under the direction of his authority ; may be able 
to cause them to act according to his own judgment. 
Manifestly these parental rights are inseparable from 
parental obligations. The will of God, when it 
commits to parents the trust of a child, gives also 
all needful power to enable them to execute that 
trust ; endows them with a title to that respect and 
obedience, on which they must rely, in fulfilling 
their set task of training their child to usefulness 
and virtue. 

You see, then, my young friends, that in refusing to 
honor your father and mother, you would act contrary 
to the will of that God, who has placed you under 
their care, to be furnished by them with whatever 
you need, and to be prepared by them for present 
and eternal happiness. He has commanded them 
to treat you with all that kind attention, which you 
remember at every period to have experienced. But 
in order that this may prove to be of real advantage, 
he has required you, on your part, to be under their 
guidance. He has directed them to provide for 
your support. But this you may put out of their 
power, if you dishonor them so far as to fall into 
habits of negligence and extravagance. He has 
charged them to form your characters. But how 
shall they do this, if you are deaf to their instruc- 
tions, and heedless of their example ? He is not 
unjust ; and he would not have appointed to them 
such a duty as he has appointed, without conferring 
on them complete authority for its fulfilment. In 
requiring of them religiously to educate, and prop- 

39 



306 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

erly to maintain and establish you, he has virtually 
required you so to honor them, that their endeavors 
may not be used for these purposes in vain. 

II. And, lest this indication of his will should be 
insufficient, he has given, secondly, very express no- 
tice of it in scripture. 

The sense, which God entertains of filial piety, is 
set forth in scripture in peculiarly plain and striking 
terms. I had occasion, this morning, to remark on 
the conspicuous place, which the commandment, re- 
quiring it, occupies in the decalogue, making, as it 
were, the link between the laws of the first and 
second tables, as the most elementary deduction 
from the first, and lying at the foundation of the lat- 
ter. In other parts of the Old Testament, it is 
placed in immediate connexion with purely religious 
duties. ' Ye shall fear,' in the same sentence it is 
said, i every man his mother and his father, and 
keep my sabbaths ; I am the Lord your God ; ' and 
of those awful imprecations, commanded to be pro- 
nounced on the day of the passage over Jordan, the 
first was directed against idolatry, the second against 
him who should < set light by his father or his mother.' 
The punishments denounced against filial impiety 
were as terrible, as any known to the Jewish law. 
Not only was it declared, ' he that smiteth his father 
or his mother shall surely be put to death ; ' but the 
sentence was extended to him who should wish them 
evil, or address them in profane and injurious language. 
' Every one that curseth his father or his mother 
shall surely be put to death. He hath cursed his 
father or his mother; his blood shall be upon him.' 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 307 

A like penalty was prescribed for neglect of 
parental warnings, as we read in the twentyfirst 
chapter of the book of Deuteronomy. I need 
scarcely remind you, — so well must it be remem- 
bered by every one, — how often the wise author of 
the Proverbs brings this topic into view, and with 
what earnestness and force he urges it. * A wise 
son,' he says, < heareth his father's instruction ; but 
a scorner heareth not rebuke.' ' A fool despiseth 
his father's instructions ; but he that regardeth re- 
proof is prudent.' The power of children over their 
parents' peace and credit is enlarged on by the same 
high authority. ' Whoso loveth wisdom, rejoiceth 
his father.' < Whoso keepeth the law is a wise son ; 
but he that is a companion of riotous men shameth 
his father.' ' A foolish son is grief to his father, 
and bitterness to her that bare him.' And the hein- 
ousness and ill-desert of the crime of undutiful chil- 
dren is strongly set forth. c Whoso curseth his 
father or his mother, his lamp shall be put out in 
obscure darkness.' ' Whoso robbeth his father or 
his mother, and saith it is no transgression, the 
same is the companion of a destroyer.' ' The eye 
that mocketh at his father, and despiseth to obey 
his mother, the ravens of the valley shall pick it 
out, and the young eagles shall eat it.' Nor does 
the New Testament bear a feebler testimony to the 
obligation of the duty in question, than the Old. 
Our Saviour addresses language of the most ani- 
mated rebuke to those Pharisees, who withheld 
what they might have applied to the relief of their 
aged parents, under pretence of having consecrated 



308 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

it as an offering to God. The apostle Paul, in two 
different instances, names filial disobedience among 
crimes of the most serious character. In describ- 
ing that prevailing depravity, which the gospel he 
preached was to root out from the world, he says 
that men were 'haters of God, despiteful, proud, in- 
ventors of evil things, — disobedient to parents ' ; 
and, in predicting a general apostacy, he describes it 
as a time when men shall be ' lovers of their own 
selves, covetous, boasters, proud, blasphemers, — 
disobedient to parents, — unthankful, unholy.' En- 
gaged as he is in his apostolic cares for the exten- 
sive concerns of that kingdom of righteousness, 
w T hich he was erecting on the ruins of irreligion and 
vice, he is not unmindful of the basis, on which pi- 
ety in every heart may best be built, nor negligent 
of enforcing their filial duties upon children. ' Let 
them learn first,' he says, ' to show piety at home, 
and to requite their parents ; for that is good and 
acceptable before God.' ' Children obey your pa- 
rents in the Lord, for this is right.' ' Children obey 
your parents in all things, for this is well pleasing 
to the Lord.' 

III. I trust, my young friends, that you are not so 
thoughtless, so indifferent to being well pleasing in 
the sight of God, but that you will be usefully im- 
pressed, by seeing how much this duty, of honoring 
your parents, is insisted on in his word. I trust it 
will give you satisfaction, in reflecting on every past 
instance of dutiful conduct, to think that, at every 
such time you have been acting according to his will, 
often declared in the Bible, and that his all attentive 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 309 

eye has then viewed you with complacency ; and I 
will not doubt, that when, at any time hereafter, you 
are tempted to pursue a different course, you will 
call to mind how often and how loudly he has de- 
clared himself against it, and how rash you are in 
exposing yourselves to his heavy displeasure. I am 
sure every heart among you will answer the appeal 
which is made, when I call on you, in the third 
place, to honor your father and mother, in return 
for their kindness to you. 

Have you always borne in mind, how much you 
owe your parents, what multiplied and strong proofs 
of their affection you have had, the trouble they 
have undertaken, the anxieties they have undergone, 
the sacrifices they have made for your sakes ? Have 
you always reflected, how fully they have shown you 
that your gratification was dearer to them than their 
own, and that there is nothing they were not willing 
to do and to bear, so that you might but be respected 
and happy ? If you had always borne these facts 
in mind, would it have been possible that a look or 
word of discontent could ever have escaped you, 
even when they called on you for some duty, to 
which you were the most averse ? Could you have 
the heart to grieve, for a moment, the bosom, which 
never knew for you any other feeling, than that of 
most disinterested love ? There is much said of 
the unkindness of the world ; and, as you advance 
in years, you will perhaps be tempted to think it is 
truly said. But of this you may be certain, — and 
the thought, if you realize it, will be more and more 
full of comfort to you the longer you live, — that 



310 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

there is one place where unmerited harshness is 
never to be found, and that is the bosom of a parent. 
Can you fail to see the truth and fervor of your 
parents' affection for you ? Consider what they are 
doing for you, day by day. While others at your 
age, with no father and mother to provide for them, 
and too young to provide for themselves, are suffer- 
ing the hardships of want and neglect, or only res- 
cued from them by the cold, however kind and ready 
hand of public charity, you are fed at the table of 
indulgent friends ; you are clothed by their care, 
you are warmed at their fireside, and at night their 
blessing dismisses you to quiet sleep beneath their 
thoughtful protection. Are you sick? They adminis- 
ter to you. Are you unhappy ? They soothe you. 
Are you perplexed ? They counsel you. Are you 
running into danger ? They check you. Are you 
obedient and industrious ? They praise and reward 
you. What a sympathy do they show in all your 
disappointments ! How happy are they made by 
all your little successes ! You are required to make 
no provision for yourselves. All is done for you; and 
nothing else is expected on your part, but diligence 
to improve the opportunities which are afforded you. 
And, all this time, they whom perhaps you are some- 
times so thoughtless, as to disobey and pain, — 
thoughtless I say, for you could not do it, if you re- 
flected, — are laboring and planning, perhaps strug- 
gling with an adverse fortune, to furnish you the 
means of comfort, of improvement, and a compe- 
tent establishment in the world. When you go to 
your diversions or to your tasks, they go to the 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 311 

cares of the day, and spare no toil, and shrink not, 
whenever their condition requires it, from any de- 
privation, so you may enjoy the present, and come 
forward into life under promising auspices. It is 
recreation enough to them, if they can but see you 
happy and improving. There was an earlier time, of 
which you have perhaps a partial recollection, when 
you were yet more a care than now ; when almost 
every step of yours needed to be watched, and you 
had not yet learned to spare trouble, to the degree 
you now have. Yet, even then, when were parental 
care and parental patience wanting ? And there 
was a time yet earlier, of which you have no mem- 
ory, when you were merely an incumbrance ; when 
you were wholly unconscious of the affection, which 
never was thoughtless of you ; wiien you could not 
utter a wish, nor move a step to supply one ; when 
you were absolutely helpless and dependant. Yet 
who then so well attended as you ? Eyes full of 
tenderness bent over your rest, wept for your sick- 
ness, and kindled at your smiles. Many a month, 
before you could lisp the names of your protectors, 
you were cherished with a kindness, which a nation's 
treasury could not purchase for its orphan king. 
When they watched by you, the night did not seem 
weary, wholly useless as you were ; and tried as 
their hearts might be by the hardships of life, there 
was one feeling there sacred to happiness, in the 
hopes that you inspired. And still it will be so, 
through all the changes of the world. However 
sternly the world may frown, still to the last there 
will be those, who will have smiles to meet you with. 



312 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

Still there will be eyes, that, till death quenches 
them, will always turn on you with fondness ; with 
affectionate and proud congratulation when you are 
just to yourself, and when you fail to be so, scarcely 
with anything more unkind than sadness. A pa- 
rent's attachment is not capricious, like that of many 
other friends. It is not superficial, like that of still 
more. His heart feels deeply, and cleaves long. 
Perhaps it is incapable of being entirely weaned. 
It will bleed at your misfortunes. It will break at 
your shame. But perhaps the dreadful experiment 
has never once succeeded, to estrange it completely 
even from a guilty and dishonored child. The 
mourning of the great king of Israel, is a portrait 
the most true to nature. Misled by evil counsellors 
and a wild ambition, his unhappy child had conspir- 
ed against, and all but compassed the destruction of 
his authority and life. Yet when he had fallen in 
rebellious battle, and by his death his father's throne 
was established, and his grey hairs spared from 
going down to the grave in blood, what is the lan- 
guage of the outraged monarch, the abused benefac- 
tor, the greatly injured parent ? Is it the language 
of triumph ? Is it the language of reproach ? Is 
it the language even of just self- vindication ? No ; 
it is uttered in a solitary chamber, in an agony of 
weeping ; and its words are, ' would God I had died 
for thee, O Absalom, my son, my son ! ' 

And shall it ever be told of any one of you, my 
young friends, — I do not say, that he has rewarded 
the goodness of his parents with ingratitude and 
disobedience, for this I will not suppose, — but that 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 313 

he has been insensible to, or forgetful of their good- 
ness ? Shall it not be your fixed purpose and hearty 
endeavor, to consult their wishes, fulfil their expec- 
tations, and make them happy ? How much more 
have they done for you, than you can ever hope to 
repay. And will you not think it the least you can 
do for them, to be dutiful, attentive, affectionate 
and good ; to spare them, among all their pains for 
you, the worst pain of all, that of seeing you in- 
tractable, headstrong, and vicious ; to give them, 
when you have nothing else of value to give, the 
happiness of seeing you all they can approve, — all 
they could wish ? Have they not done enough, to 
prove to you that they have your well-being at heart ; 
and will you ever think of complaining of what they 
do, or objecting to what they command, as if they 
were oppressive or unkind ? 

IV. I might dwell, in the fourth place, my young 
friends, on the beauty of that virtue which I am 
recommending ; and urge you to honor your father 
and mother, because filial piety is the loveliest attri- 
bute of the loveliest age, and one which compels 
men, of the most experience in life, to esteem, — I 
will say, to reverence, — the youngest child in whom 
it is found. But this is a consideration scarcelv ad- 
mitting of being pressed in any other way, than by 
calling your attention to such examples, as exhibit 
the power to attract and endear, which this quality 
possesses. 

Is there any character then, let me ask, which, in 
your reflecting moments, you more respect and ap- 
plaud, than that of the child who honors and loves 
40 



314 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

his parents more than any other human being ; who 
is uniformly respectful and affectionate in his de- 
portment to them, and considerate of their wishes 
in whatever he does ; who is always ready to trust 
and acquiesce in their judgment; who has a grateful 
sense of their attachment to him, and is continually 
seeking opportunities to show his love for them ? 
So far from regarding such a child as deficient in 
spirit, do you not find, that you unconsciously attrib- 
ute to him all the elevation and energy of character 
that can belong to his age ? Do you not find your- 
selves prompt to expect, that, whatever may happen, 
he will be above everything mean, and equal to 
everything honest ; that to do wrong, is the only 
thing in which he will be found backward ; that in 
whatever is innocent, he will show himself the most 
light-hearted and happy of you all, because he does 
not take burdens upon his conscience ; and that, 
where he sees his duty lie, he will venture to risk 
more, and bear more, and do more, than any num- 
ber of others less conscientious and dutiful than he ? 
Is there any person that strikes you as more praise- 
worthy and amiable, any that touches your feelings 
nearer, any that you more desire to make your 
friend, and would more thoroughly trust as such ? 
Whether in childhood, or in mature life, is there any 
quality which more engages you than this ? Among 
all the attractive examples which scripture presents, is 
there any to which you find yourselves more attract- 
ed, than those which display the beauty of filial af- 
fection ? Is there any part of the Old Testament 
which interests you more than the history of Joseph ; 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 315 

and, if you were to select the incidents which seem 
to you most touching in that exquisitely simple and 
affecting narrative, would you not name the moment, 
when that glorious man, who had been an Egyptian 
menial and prisoner, and was the highest Egyptian 
prince, dismissed his attendants, when his full heart 
must be unburdened or burst, and, weeping aloud, 
could but ask, ' doth my father yet live ? ' And, 
next to this, do you not admire him, when you see 
him sending his aged parent succor in the famine of 
Canaan, and the message, c come down unto me, 
tarry not ; and thou shalt dwell in the land of 
Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto me, thou and 
thy children, and all that thou hast ; and there will 
1 nourish thee, lest thou, and thy household, and all 
that thou hast, come to poverty ? ' Does it not ap- 
pear to you less honorable to Judah, that in him was 
the royal line of his family, than that, offering him- 
self to slavery to save his father from grief, he said, 
1 it shall come to pass when he seeth that the lad is 
not with us, that he will die, and thy servants shall 
bring down the grey hairs of thy servant our father, 
with sorrow to the grave ; — now, therefore, I pray 
thee, let thy servant abide instead of the lad a bond- 
man to my lord ? ' In all the history of the great- 
est king of Israel, does there seem to you a moment 
of truer glory, than when, seeing his mother ap- 
proach him, as he sat surrounded by all the magnifi- 
cence of an Asiatic court, he * rose up to meet her, 
and bowed himself unto her, and sat down on his 
throne, and caused a seat to be set for the king's 
mother, and she sat on his right hand, — and the 



316 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

king said unto her, " Ask on, my mother, for I will not 
say thee nay ? " ' And, as if nothing were to be want- 
ing to impress on your minds the sacredness of this 
duty, do you find anything in what you read of the 
suffering Saviour of men, which touches a deeper 
chord in your hearts, which speaks to you with a 
more subduing pathos, than that place which records, 
that when hanging on the cross, — earth and heaven 
bearing testimony to his finished work, — neither the 
agonies of a violent death, nor the triumphant 
contemplations on a world redeemed, sin and death 
vanquished, and the glories of the highest heaven at 
hand, could drive the feelings of natural affection 
from his filial heart ? The tears of Mary fell not 
unregarded by her dying but conquering son, and 
his last earthly care was to bequeath his mother to 
the love of the disciple whom he loved. 

If it were not, my young friends, that the impor- 
tance of this duty is too great, to allow of its being 
exhibited in every point of view in many discourses, 
if it were not that you are urged to honor your 
father and mother by too many considerations, to 
admit even of touching upon them all, I would yet 
ask you to continue your attention to a subject so 
truly and richly profitable to you. In particular, I 
would remind you, how happy the course I have 
been recommending will make these your youthful 
years ; how much you will find yourselves respected 
and beloved on account of it by all, and how ten- 
derly you will endear yourselves to those, by whom 
it most concerns you to be beloved. I would assure 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 317 

you, that to have honored your father and mother 
will give you an advantage in your introduction into 
life, of which you will then first know how to esti- 
mate the worth. He who carries with him the 
character of a good son, will find everywhere a pre- 
possession in his favor. It will be better to him 
than wealth, accomplishments, dexterity or address. 
I would urge on you, that filial piety will protect 
you from the snares which may be laid for your 
youth, and be an anchor of safety in the worst 
storms that threaten you in the world ; that it is 
the original bond of domestic society, the one root 
of all those feelings of kindred, which, next to the 
religious, we own for the most amiable, and find to 
be most nearly interesting to us, of all. I would 
urge, that it is intimately connected with other ex- 
cellent dispositions ; and that, in causing the charac- 
ter, while yet pliable, to be effectually profited by 
the discipline it receives, it lays a foundation for a 
virtuous life, and a happy immortality. But, though 
the field is too extensive to be further ventured on, 
you will not expect me to conclude, without just al- 
luding to the promise of the Jewish law, referred to 
in the text. I would gladly, my young friends, prom- 
ise you every blessing, as the reward of the course I 
have recommended. It would rejoice me, to hold 
out to you the hope of living to mature, through 
many happy years, the virtues you had formed in 
childhood, and of descending in peace and honor to 
your grave in a good old age. But in length of 
days is not the encouragement, by which Christian- 
ity, providing its sanctions in the condition of another 



318 DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 

life, excites you to your duty. The grave respects 
not the meek head of youthful piety, any more than 
that which fourscore years have silvered. Excellent 
dispositions and fair prospects give « no discharge' 
nor respite 'in that war;' else many hearts, that now 
bleed in silent resignation, w T ould have been spared 
the piercing wound. But that which was distin- 
guished from the rest, by being the first command- 
ment with promise, is yet rich in promise to you ; 
in promise of far greater encouragement and worth, 
than would be that of happiness through the longest 
life. It points, for its recompense, to happiness 
through an endless eternity. ' Let children learn,' 
is one of its recorded forms, ' to show piety at 
home, and to requite their parents ; for this is good 
and acceptable before God.' To be acceptable be- 
fore God, my young friends, is the highest distinc- 
tion to which you, or any living being, can aspire. 
It includes peace in life ; comfort in death ; bliss 
and glory through eternity. What then, though I 
may not promise you length of days, — what though 
the eyes that now dwell on you so fondly may soon 
be swimming in sorrow, and the arms that enfold 
you so closely may lay you down in a damp, cold, 
narrow bed ? — this, however, I may venture to as- 
sure you of; that, if you honor your parents by a 
dutiful and religious conduct, your days, few or 
many, will be honorable and happy ; that the more 
they are, the more your virtues will expand and be 
matured in human view, and the fewer they are, 
the sooner you will be in heaven ; that w T hile you 
live, the eye that sees you will bless you, and the 



DUTIES OF CHILDREN. 319 

ear, that hears you, bear approving witness to you ; 
and that when you die, though your bodies will dis- 
solve beneath the green turf, which many parental 
* thoughts that lie too deep for tears' will day by 
day revisit, your spirits will be at rest in the arms 
of a better parent than here you have known, — in 
the arms of your Father in Heaven. 



SERMON XXII. 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS 



GEN ESIS XLIII, 29, 30. 

AND HE LIFTED UP HIS EYES, AND SAW HIS BROTHER BENJAMIN, HIS 
MOTHER'S SON, — AND HE SAID, GOD BE GRACIOUS UNTO THEE, MY SON ; 
AND JOSEPH MADE HASTE, — AND HE SOUGHT WHERE TO WEEP, AND 
HE ENTERED INTO HIS CHAMBER, AND WEPT THERE. 

The history of Joseph presents a beautiful exhi- 
bition of the fraternal, as well as of the filial charac- 
ter. Sold in his youth into foreign bondage by the 
vindictive jealousy of his elder brethren, they next 
met, — he, as the actual sovereign of the country 
where he had been enslaved, — they, as suppliants 
to him for a supply of food. Without recognition on 
their part, he dismissed them amply and gratuitously 
provided, taking measures only to secure that they 
should return, and that then their number should be 
full. When the event, for which he had arranged, 
came to pass, and he had first inquired and been sat- 
isfied respecting his father's welfare, and then had 
learned that their new companion was their younger 
brother, his own mother's son, his childhood's play- 
mate in their distant Syrian home, the sharer of his 
light joys and short lived sorrows before greatness 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 321 

had made him know anything of its littleness and 
pains, there came a throng of thoughts too mighty 
for the self-command of the firm and practised ruler 
of Egypt, and, as we are told in the text, before he 
could do more than utter a single exclamation of 
devout blessing, he was fain to seek, in his chamber, 
where he should relieve his over-full heart, by tears. 
— The sequel, as well as what I have repeated, is 
familiar ; for the history of Joseph is a composition, 
to the taste of all times, all countries, all readers. 
In the moment of tumultuous feeling, when, ex- 
cited apparently by the dutiful proposal of Judah, 
he abruptly makes himself known, his first care is 
to assure himself, past any danger of mistake, of 
his father's welfare ; ■ I am Joseph, doth my father 
yet live ? ' — his second, to reconcile his trembling 
brothers to themselves, urging that it was God's 
providence, rather than their malice, which had 
brought him where he was, and that it had done so, 
to the end of giving him more power to prove him- 
self friendly to them. ' Come near to me, I pray 
you ; — I am Joseph, your brother, whom ye sold into 
Egypt. — Be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, 
that ye sold me hither. For God did send me be- 
fore you to preserve life. — God sent me before you 
to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save 
your lives by a great deliverance.' The purpose, 
thus announced, he proceeds with a princely mu- 
nificence to execute. He detains them no longer 
than to kiss them all, and weep upon them, from 
going to gladden the heart of their long disconso- 
late parent with the unlooked for tidings, and tell 

41 



322 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

him that an Egyptian province awaited his occupa- 
tion and that of his house. ' Haste ye, and go up 
to my father, and say unto him, thus saith thy son 
Joseph, God hath made' me lord of all Kgypt ; come 
down unto me, tarry not ; and thou shalt dwell in 
the land of Goshen, and thou shalt be near unto 
me, thou and thy children, and thy children's chil- 
dren, — and there will I nourish thee, — lest thou 
and thy household, and all that thou hast, come to 
poverty.' He puts off his greatness before them, to 
join them in establishing their parent in his new 
home ; to stand, among them, as an equal, by Ja- 
cob's death-bed ; and to journey with them to lay 
his bones in the field of Macpelah, by the side of 
those of Abraham, Isaac, and Leah. When, fear- 
ful that his displeasure would return, now that the 
parent, whose presence might inspire relenting 
thoughts, was no more, they send humbly and pen- 
itently to bespeak again his forgiveness, for their 
father's sake, and that of their father's God, he 
comforts them, and speaks kindly to them, - — speaks 
4 to their hearts,' as the expressive simplicity of the 
original conveys the fact, — and says, 'Now, therefore, 
fear ye not, I will nourish you, and your little ones.' 
And, dying himself, he gives them the last mark of 
confidence, by bequeathing to them his body, to 
be laid by their posterity in the holy soil of the 
promised land. 

Every one sees the nobleness and attractiveness 
of this conduct. I have brought it before your no- 
tice, with a view to lead your thoughts to the nature 
of the fraternal relation, and of the mutual service, 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 323 

for which it should be understood to call. And I 
would seriously ask, my hearers, whether commonly 
we make nearly enough of it ; whether we give 
sufficient heed to its obligations ; whether, both by 
young and old, it might not be turned to much more 
account, for the best uses, than is often done. 

I. Let us endeavor to find, in the first place, 
the basis of the obligation which belongs to that 
bond. For it is not expressly assumed responsi- 
bility, like that of the conjugal or parental rela- 
tion ; nor, like that of the filial, is it such as is 
incident to a condition of inferiority, dependence, 
and, if I may so say, ownership. Nor would I ven- 
ture to rest it on the ground of a supposed natural 
affection, of which, as an independent property of 
the human soul, much has been written, but, for the 
most part, very obscurely and unsatisfactorily, ex- 
cept as far as the name stands for the parental in- 
stinct. 

1 . I find a solid basis for the obligation of frater- 
nal love, in that great precept and principle of our 
religion, that we are to < do good unto all, as we have 
opportunity ;' — of course, then, in proportion as we 
have opportunity. Now to how many, of all the 
world, have we more frequent and more ample op- 
portunity to do good, than to brothers and sisters, 
especially through the early years of life ? 

God means us all for benefactors, my hearers. 
That we well understand, or ought to understand. 
He has given us capacities fitting us, and impulses 
disposing us, to that office. But we are to execute 
it, each in his own place and manner ; and accord- 



324 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

ingly, what his will is, respecting our individual 
agency of usefulness, we are to learn from indica- 
tions of his providence, as well as from directions 
of his word. Wherever he has given us a peculiarly 
large endowment of beneficent power, there we are 
to own a peculiarly urgent summons, on his part, to 
beneficent endeavor. If this be not doubted, as 
I do not apprehend it will be, then I have only 
further to ask, whether, for a long time at least, we 
are not more with brothers and sisters than with any 
other companions ; whether, accordingly, as far as 
through rivalships, disputes, and interferences, we 
may occasion disturbance in any quarter, or, on the 
other hand, may impart pleasure by our gentleness 
and generosity, it will not be the comfort and en- 
joyment of brothers and sisters, especially, that we 
shall thus promote or abridge ; and whether their 
characters, through the forming period of life, and 
so their happiness through life and beyond it, are 
not subject, in a peculiar degree, to beneficial or 
mischievous influences proceeding from our senti- 
ments and example ? If we have ascertained this, 
we have established thus far our responsibility in the 
case. And a like responsibility will appear to us to 
extend beyond the period of constant domestic 
intercourse in youth, if we perceive further that, be- 
yond that period, brothers and sisters retain ties, 
recollections, and habits, and are likely to retain 
sentiments and interests, in common, which give 
them important facilities for access to each other's 
minds, and control over each other's fortunes and 
feelings. 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 325 

2. There is a very moving appeal, prompting to 
the sentiment of fraternal love, involved in that of 
filial duty ; — so beautifully are our best sources of 
improvement and happiness made, by a gracious 
providence, to blend, and thus strengthen, the influ- 
ences going forth from them respectively. 

You profess to love the authors of your being. 
You declare yourself not insensible to the disinter- 
estedness, shown in all their efforts and sacrifices for 
your good. If they still live, you own yourself bound 
to do all in your power to increase their happiness. 
You see yourself deeply culpable, if you should know- 
ingly cost them a needless pang. If they are no more 
here for you to bless, you say that you take delight 
in doing what they would have desired to see you 
do. You think lightly of no expressed or presumed 
wish of theirs, now that they may no longer utter 
it. On the contrary, you find a precious satisfaction 
in calling up their revered idea ; imagining what, 
were they present, would afford them pleasure, and 
making it a rule for your own conduct. If you are 
sincere in using this language, — and it is no more 
than the natural, just, in no degree exaggerated lan- 
guage of filial gratitude, — then it is impossible that 
you should not find yourself under one of the strong- 
est motives to concern yourself for the good of those, 
who are or were objects with you of that same pa- 
rental affection, of which, extended to yourself, 
you profess to think with so much sensibility. If 
they are with you, you see, — if not with you, still 
you know, — that nothing earthly is or was nearer 
to their hearts, than the welfare of their children. 



326 DUTIES OF BROTHERS ANDSISTERS. 

Study assiduously to promote that welfare, then ; 
or give up your pretence of caring for their wishes. 
He is not only an unkind brother, — he is equally an 
unnatural son, — who will banish from his heart 
that to which his parent's heart yearns and clings. 
And, on the other hand, what more acceptable or 
effectual aid can a parent have in his tasks, than in 
the mutual services of those, for whom his cares 
are alike expended ; and what happier earthly 
ground of confidence can he have for them, when 
his tasks are done, than in the knowledge, that, as 
far as they have power, they will fill his place to 
one another ? Yes, my hearers ; if you love your 
parents, you will not be thoughtless of fulfilling 
their first wishes. You will endeavor to benefit 
their children. 

3. So much is one of the simplest argumentative 
deductions, determining a form of duty. There is 
more of the same nature, which I merely touch 
upon, for it may be thought to belong rather to the 
sphere of sentiment than of reason ; though, if a man 
is not moved by it, he would seem of a material too 
coarse to be made to present, under any excitements, 
a very finished or winning form of goodness. 

We look, my hearers, in a brother's countenance, 
and what a volume of touching recollections do we 
read. The first scene, distinct in the memory of 
either, is that of the nursery which we shared. Our 
infancy was hushed on the same loving bosom. Our 
peevish childhood was soothed by the same gentle 
voice. Our earliest prayers were lisped by the same 
knee. If we have advanced further, every thought 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 327 

of the sports and tasks, the schemes, the meditations 
and adventures of youth, places us again by each 
other's side. Our paths, however different since, 
were once merely the same. Our enjoyments and 
vexations had the same sources ; our hopes and fears 
the same objects ; our industry, such as it was, the 
same place and the same discipline. Each can witness 
to what each learned from a father's anxious counsels, 
or owed to his ready bounty. Each can respond to 
the other's memory of the ever varying, never 
ceasing expressions of maternal fondness. Each 
can speak of early associates of both, in a manner 
which is reflected by the other's consciousness, ' as 
face answereth to face.' We call up together the 
shades of all in by-gone time that interested, all 
that gladdened or distressed the parental home ; the 
farewell, and the return ; the plans for the departing, 
and the intelligence from the distant ; the encoura- 
agement and congratulation, the disappointment and 
sympathy ; the honored guest, and the wonted in- 
mate ; the health and the sickness ; the bereavement 
and the blessing ; the festive hospitality, the funereal 
gloom. If that parental home yet may welcome, 
when it has dismissed us, can we ever pass its thresh- 
hold, without hearing ourselves addressed as Joseph 
charged his brethren, ' see that ye fall not out by 
the way ? ' Can we breathe its atmosphere, without 
feeling our hearts filled anew, if unhappily anything 
be needed to recall them, with the spirit of our ear- 
liest friendships ? Can we lie down again, from our 
journeyings to and fro in the earth, to its welcome 
repose, and not be sure, before we close our eyes, 



328 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

that the household guardian angels of our childhood 
have already exorcised every ungentle feeling we 
may have harbored against any who once shared 
with us their care ? Or, if the flame of the familiar 
hearth be quenched, or strangers now sit round it, — 
if no more, save in the narrow house ' appointed for 
all the living,' we may seek together those who, liv- 
ing, cared for us alike, — is not then the feeling, that, 
as we belonged alike to them, so we belong to one 
another, made, if possible, more intense and sacred ? 
At a parent's grave, can there be anything but love 
in brothers' hearts ? Is there such a meaning word 
as sympathy, and has not sympathy in such tender 
thoughts, as the blended experience of early life and 
of parental care inspires, a softening and attaching 
power over the fraternal minds which it possesses ? 

II. Our remarks on the basis of obligations be- 
longing to the fraternal bond, have all along implied, 
that they were, in general, obligations to the exer- 
cise of a friendly spirit. But how, in the second 
place, is this spirit to be manifested, in the particular 
relation in question ? No more convenient way oc- 
curs to me of taking a survey of this ground, than 
by observing what kind of conduct is due to the 
claims of the relation, at successive periods of life. 

1. If you, my young friends, who are sustaining 
it in the years of childhood, desire to show your- 
selves good brothers and sisters, you may and you 
need do much to that end, day by day. 

There are continually occurring, in your inter- 
course together, what are capable of being made 
occasions of strife. But, if you allow them to be 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 329 

so to you, rely upon it, that, — apart from the wick- 
edness of so doing, which will bring upon you the dis- 
approbation of your friends and others, and the dis- 
pleasure of Almighty God, — apart, I say, from this, 
you are giving yourself immediate pain, as well as doing 
yourself lasting injury, by the allowance of your angry 
feeling, whereas a willing relinquishment of the gratifi- 
cation you desired will afford you more pleasure in the 
approbation ofyour own mind, and the very indulgence 
of generous emotion, than you could possibly have ex- 
perienced in having your own way. I need not urge 
this on any of you, who have been accustomed to try 
the experiment ; for you w r ell know, that, the of- 
tener you have repeated it, the happier you have 
been. And I will add, — though I would be far 
from presenting so inferior a consideration for a 
motive, — that you must have been singularly un- 
fortunate, if you have even found yourselves losers, 
in the only way that it might be thought possible 
you should. On the contrary, unless those were 
very rugged natures, with which you have had to 
deal, you must have seen that the disinterestedness 
which you have practised, you have meanwhile 
taught to them, making your habitual intercourse 
with them an intercourse of peace and generosity, 
and giving you in your turn the benefit of sacrifices 
on their part, like what you have shown yourselves 
willing to make. Let me urge upon all of you, 
my young friends, to find your happiness now to- 
gether in this course, as well as to habituate and 
prepare yourselves for like worthy and happy con- 
duct on a larger scale hereafter. Be assured that 
42 



330 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

nothing, worth having, is to be gained by you from 
one another by strife, and that everything is to be 
gained by gentleness and reciprocal self-denials. 
Do not answer an unkind word, except by kindness. 
Do not let it be seen that you notice a disobliging 
action, except by taking the greater pains to show, 
in your own conduct, how much more becoming and 
graceful an act of different character w T ould have 
been. Never allow a feeling of jealousy of a broth- 
er's, or sister's pretensions, or envy of their superior- 
ity in beauty, knowledge or anything else, to gain 
a footing within you. It would be a sad guest for a 
young heart to entertain. And if you suspect that 
anything, intended for the more rapid improvement 
of your mind, is leading to this, resist it, or have 
done with it. It is much better that you should be 
far less knowing, than that you should love a broth- 
er or sister a particle the less. Never entertain the 
idea that they are the objects of your parents' pre- 
ference ; nor permit yourself to wish them, in any 
particular, anything short of the best good which 
can befall them. And, of course, you are by no 
means to limit yourselves to avoiding occasions of 
unfriendly feeling, though this is to be scrupulously 
done. It will be more for your own good, than you 
can now possibly be made to understand, if you apply 
yourselves cordially to contrive and do all sorts of 
good to them ; if you join them in their amuse- 
ments, though it should call you to break off from 
your own ; if you encourage and help them in their 
studies ; if you befriend them among their associ- 
ates ; if you share with them what you have to 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND BISTERS. 331 

share ; if you interest yourselves with others, to 
procure for them the little indigencies they desire. 
Above all, you will illustriously dignify your age 5 
when you lead them by your counsel, encourage- 
ment, and example, to find their share of the enjoy- 
ments, which are only to be found in goodness* 
No one can now convey to you an idea of the hap- 
piness, which you will then be storing up for your- 
selves, in the gratitude which, from their early days 
to their latest, those whom you have so served and 
blessed will cherish towards you ; the love you will 
have won from the guardians of you both ; the es- 
teem and confidence your course will have secured, 
on the part of all, by whom it has been witnessed ; 
and your own joyful memory, that even your gay 
childhood had been spent in doing the w r ork the 
most acceptable to God, for the benefit of those 
whom best God bade you love. 

2. If that other class of you, my friends, who, hav- 
ing arrived at the more advanced stage of youth, still 
remain inmates of the parental dwelling, have pur- 
sued in childhood the course which I have been de- 
scribing, you will be in little danger of abandoning it, 
now that you are putting away other ' childish things. 5 
On the contrary, you will be taught the more scru- 
pulous caution, by observing how much more disturb- 
ance in your parents' home your dissensions might 
create, now that you have acquired a degree of in- 
dependence of their control, and your passions have 
grown stronger ; and you will have become so used 
to regarding brothers and sisters as your charge, and 
you will perceive so many plans of kindness, which 



332 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

hitherto have been renewed, and have succeeded 
each other, hour by hour, to be still unfinished on 
jour hands, and will be conscious of having, all 
along, enjoyed so much in prosecuting them, that 
you will find yourselves under all excitements to 
abound in the same work, more and more. 

Well may you be encouraged to do so. — 
Brothers and sisters have become capable, at your 
age, of being, on all accounts, most important friends 
to one another. A brother has then large resources 
in a brother's attachment ; a sister in a sister's. 
Both have now had some experience of life, and 
ought to have something of that wisdom, which it 
belongs to the discipline of experience to teach. 
They have acquired knowledge, to be communicated 
for each other's improvement and guidance, and 
made friends, who may be engaged in endeavors for 
each other's benefit. Their mutual regard and con- 
fidence is, or ought to have been, established, by 
long practice of mutual reliance and good offices. 
Each knows the other's character and history ; and 
accordingly, in some greater or less degree, his or 
her strong and weak points, his advantages and 
encouragements, deficiencies and dangers. Each 
knows the other's associates; and, accordingly, where 
to look for any influence, which himself may not 
possess, or may desire to overthrow. The mutual 
relation they bear, and the fact, that, — the prosperity 
of the household being a common cause, — the honor 
or shame, the success or loss of any member of it 
concerns the rest, authorize each to interest himself 
with the other by advice and remonstrance, or for 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 333 

him by interference with yet other persons. Evi- 
dently, for the great object of affecting character, 
the opportunities enjoyed by them, in the way of 
insinuating their own sentiments, enforcing their 
principles, and recommending their example, are pe- 
culiarly favorable, or can at least be watched and 
improved till they are made so ; and each of them 
involves a corresponding duty. And the same may 
be said of opportunity afforded, in this relation, 
for all other offices of friendship. Though partly 
dependant on the will and past habit of the parties, 
who may be inclined to repose more or less confi- 
dence, that opportunity can hardly fail to be great ; 
and when it is most ample, it is happiest for all, for 
domestic society, excluding, by its nature, some 
causes of collision, and, when regulated in its proper 
spirit, hindering, from the first, the operation of 
others, is the fittest of all soils for friendship to 
flourish in. A brother can enter fully into a brother's 
feelings, — a sister into a sister's; and thus their 
mutual kindness may be commonly better directed, 
better timed, and, in various ways, more acceptable, 
and their sympathy, advice, or aid more profit- 
able, than that of other friends. And, in particular, 
the relation of brother and sister to one another, is 
undoubtedly one of the most beautiful which prov- 
idence has instituted ; forbidding, from the different 
pursuits of the two sexes, anything of that rivalry and 
interference, which is so often the bane of friendship 
among other equals, and, without the possibility of 
the sentiment being tainted with any alloy of passion, 
finding scope for that peculiar tenderness, strength, 



334 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

trustingness of attachment, which belong to the re- 
lation of delicacy, dependence and retirement on 
the one part, to energy, self-reliance, and enterprise 
on the other. Is anything more delightful, than to 
witness this relation sustained, as God, when he 
arranged it, designed that it should be ? a mutual 
confidence, and esteem, and sense of privilege in 
each other's regard, evinced and renewed in every 
daily communication ; the sister watching the 
brother's growing virtues and consequence with 
a modest pride, while she checks his adventurous- 
ness with her well-timed scruples, and finds for him 
a way to look more cheerfully on his defeats, — the 
brother, looking on the sister's graces with a fond- 
ness that would be like a parent's, only that it is 
gayer, more confident, and more given to expression, 
and studying, with ambitious assiduity, to requite 
the gentle guidance, to which his impetuous spirit 
delights to yield itself; the one, zealous and con- 
stant in all acceptable kindnesses, in her secluded 
sphere, which God has given her an intuitive sagacity 
to invent, the other delighting to communicate all 
means of improvement, which his different opportu- 
nities of education have prepared him to offer ; 
the one, gratefully conscious of a protection as 
watchful as it will be prompt and firm, the other 
of an interested love, which, whether in silence or 
in words, can speak his praises, the most movingly, 
where he may most desire to have them spoken. 
Is anything in the relations appointed by him, who, 
for wise and kind ends, ' hath set the solitary in 
families,' more delightful to witness, than such a 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 335 

brotherly and sisterly devotion ? If there be, it is 
what remains to be added to the picture. It is seen, 
when they who are thus united, make the younger 
members of their band a common care, and turn 
back to offer the gentle and encouraging hand of a 
love more discreet than that of mere equals, and 
more familiar than the parental, to lead their child- 
ish unpractised steps along that path of filial piety, 
of fraternal union and religious wisdom, which them- 
selves, walking together in it, have found, through- 
out, a way of such pleasantness and peace. Yes ; 
earth has no fairer sight, than a company, so mar- 
shalled, of young travellers to heaven. 

3. There is little further room for exhortation, 
my friends. When our childhood and youth have, 
in the fraternal circle, been thus passed, what is to 
come after may almost be relied on to take care of 
itself. We shall not then be of those, who think 
that the home of our birth is a place, where lasting 
friendships may or may not have their origin, accord- 
ing as accident may dictate. We shall not think of 
going, each his own separate, unregarding and un- 
regarded way, when we take our departure from 
our father's door. 

If we are the younger members of such a 
band, it will be much more than a habit, which 
will bid us still cherish an enduring gratitude to 
those, who were among the earliest to make us 
acquainted with the satisfactions of that sentiment. 
If we are the elder, they who were long such en- 
deared objects to us of protecting care, will not 
cease to be objects of an affectionately vigilant con- 
cern. And from those, towards whom our friend- 



336 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

ship has stood more on a footing of equality, it will 
be no common chance that will have power to divide 
us. Absence will not vacate a place in our hearts, 
which, made vacant, can be filled again with no 
other like tenant ; and, to the end that it may not, 
all accessible and suitable methods of keeping the 
mutual interest alive, by such communications as 
absence admits, will have more than punctilious, 
they will have emulous attention. It will be a bit- 
ter grief, but it will not move our anger, if a broth- 
er should prove unworthy. Others may have cause 
to renounce him ; but, before he can be renounced by 
us, there must be stronger reasons than what are 
adequate to justify them. Who is to be looked to, 
to sustain and reclaim an offending brother, if, as 
soon as he has offended, a brother's love is to fail 
him ? No hazard of division will ever be inten- 
tionally taken by offence offered on our own part ; 
and no offence offered on the other will be suffered 
to create it, if there be generosity enough left, for 
any meekness, forbearance, and long-suffering of 
ours to heal the wound. We shall rejoice, if so it 
may be, in using the advantages of our earlier pros- 
perity, for those who are to follow us, in bringing 
them forward favorably into life; and shall feel, 
while we are doing this, that we could scarcely have 
had a richer reward for our exertions, or obtained a 
better sense of the worth of our success. We shall 
adopt any new connexions, which they make, to our 
own friendship, putting ourselves to special pains to 
deserve and attract a good-will like the fraternal, 
from such as may become intimately allied to them ; 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 337 

that so not only all diversities of interest, and all 
influences adverse to our perfect sympathy, may to 
the utmost be avoided, but that new and grateful 
resources for contributing to their chief happiness 
may be secured and used. These are methods, by 
which fraternal confidence is kept alive in more than 
even its early strength, when the ardor of youth is 
over, and the extended relations of manhood have 
made other claims upon the heart ; — claims, which, 
if they be nearer, still aim at no exclusion, and cre- 
ate no interference, if a wise justice but continue 
to be done to those of earlier date. As we jro 

a 

down the vale of years together, we shall be atten- 
tive to secure for ourselves, and offer to them, as 
far as is consistent with other duties, the satisfac- 
tions of that society, which will not fail to be a val- 
ued resource to both ; and, according as their cir- 
cumstances and ours call for and permit the service, 
we shall find a grateful satisfaction in ministering 
to the comfort of their age. And as we have loved 
them, because they were as dear as ourselves to our 
own best earthly friends, we shall transfer, again, 
a portion of our regard, to the children on whom 
their affections and hopes are set. While they live, 
we shall find pleasure in taking all suitable and 
needed means to let them see, — and, if it will do 
anything to assuage the solicitudes of their de- 
parture, we shall take care to have them then un- 
derstand, — that what has been nearest to their 
hearts will never be without a place in ours. If we 
wish to do our measure of good in the world, my 
hearers, do we not often think, that our power is pe- 

43 



338 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

culiarly great, and our obligation strong, to exert 
ourselves in this way for those, whose feelings will be 
peculiarly gratified by our kindness, and be painfully 
wounded by a sense of our neglect ; for whom the 
mere loss of interchange of thought and memory 
with us, if there were nothing else in question, would 
cut offa main source of enjoyment, such as, from the 
nature of the case, it is impossible they should any 
where else command ? Does not this part of our 
nature, — the affections, — deserve our reverence, 
and shall we think of defrauding them, in respect 
to so just a claim ? Do we ever present to our- 
selves the thought of meeting, in a better world, the 
authors of our being ; and do we not fancy, that it 
will add a delight to the joys of our re-union, if 
they and we then know that, since the parting, we 
have been diligently endeavoring to accomplish 
their first earthly, their parental wishes ? 

I have exceeded due limits, and yet I have left 
two points of interest, which I intended to urge in 
conclusion, not so much as touched. I will not, 
however, forbear to throw out a single hint upon 
them. Apart from the personal obligation of chil- 
dren of the same house, to cultivate a mutual good- 
will, I would present to parents the forming of this 
sentiment, as a distinct object to be contemplated 
in the work of education. You wish, my friends, to 
do your best, towards providing for your children's 
welfare, when you shall have them less under your 
direction, or shall be no longer here to care for them. 
You would desire to attach to them friends, who 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 339 

may aid your endeavors for their good, and who, in 
some degree, might supply to them your place. 
Provide for them such friends, in their brothers and 
sisters. Take pains to accustom them to feel and 
act as mutual well wishers, till they shall be inca- 
pable, as far as you can make it so, of ever enter- 
taining a thought of doing otherwise. That would 
be the nearest possible to an effectual provision, of 
the kind you covet. It is one which it belongs to 
you to make, and which, rightly endeavoring, you 
will scarcely fail to make ; and it may well be an 
object of your daily care. When you witness little 
heart burnings and altercations now, consider, if 
you do not seasonably check and reconcile them, 
and purify their source, how probable it is, that the 
like will follow on a much more serious scale, when 
you may not be here, or, being here, may no longer 
have the power of authoritative interference, to con- 
trol their consequences. When you see them serv- 
ing one another in little things, acknowledge a joy- 
ful omen, what useful benefactors they will, by and 
by, reciprocally be in greater, if you afford the proper 
encouragement and guidance; and ask yourselves, 
how, by providing for them means, and suggesting 
to them expedients, for this kind of conduct, you 
may give them increased practice in it, and relish 
for it. You remember the fable of the parent, who, 
dying, called his children round him, and offered to 
each a twig, which they easily broke ; then, binding 
all together, called them to witness that the fagot 
could defy their utmost strength. It was a truly 
parental thought. Your children, united by a fel- 



340 DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 

low-feeling of interest and character, will be each 
to other a trustworthy support. If you would build 
up your house, let it be your care to infuse into 
them this spirit. If your solicitude looks to the 
higher object of their best improvement, and attain- 
ment of life's great objects, the lesson is still the 
same. 

Finally ; a peculiar importance attaches to the 
early cultivation of the sentiment which 1 have 
been recommending, because, in the constitution of 
fraternal society, it would appear that providence 
has made its arrangement for the elementary disci- 
pline of the benevolent man. When we serve our 
parents the most commendably, still it is as our su- 
periors that we serve them ; under a sense of posi- 
tive duty ; with a consciousness that they have a 
claim upon us of strict right. In intercourse with 
brothers and sisters, our earliest opportunity is pro- 
vided, for acquiring and exercising the spirit, which 
is, all our lives long, to be manifested to equals, and 
to those a little below or above us. Here are our 
first lessons taken in those habits of making sacri- 
fices, encountering inconveniences, stifling and con- 
ciliating discontents, and studying opportunities to 
be kind and useful, without the coercion of any 
claim upon us capable of being enforced, which, 
hereafter, we are constantly to be practising upon, if 
we ever come to act our part worthily, as members 
of the more extended family of man. But I can- 
not enlarge. Let us heartily bless God, my friends, 
that, from the first to the last of our lives, his wise 
and gracious providence has made such dispositions 



DUTIES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS. 341 

to the end of the best discipline of our characters. 
And let it be our earnest purpose and endeavor, that 
neither for ourselves, nor for those whom he has 
committed to our guidance, any portion of the ben- 
efit, so designed, shall be lost. 



SERMON XXJIX. 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS 



COLOSSIANS III, 22 — IV. 1. 

SERVANTS, OBEY IN ALL THINGS YOUR MASTERS ACCORDING TO THE 
flesh; NOT WITH EYE SERVICE, AS MEN PLEASERS, BUT IN SINGLE- 
NESS OF HEART, FEARING GOD. AND WHATSOEVER YE DO, DO IT HEAR- 
TILY, AS TO THE LORD, AND NOT UNTO MEN ; KNOWING THAT OF THE LORD 
YE SHALL RECEIVE THE REWARD OF THE INHERITANCE, FOR YE SERVE 
THE LORD CHRIST. BUT HE THAT DOTH WRONG SHALL RECEIVE FOR 
THE WRONG WHICH HE HATH DONE. 

AND THERE IS NO RESPECT OF PERSONS; MASTERS, GIVE UNTO YOUR 
SERVANTS THAT WHICH IS JUST AND EQUAL, KNOWING THAT YE ALSO 
HAVE A MASTER IN HEAVEN. 

Though not, strictly speaking, a natural relation, 
that of master and servant may be considered a per- 
manent and established relation of civil society. 
Putting out of view the case of involuntary servi- 
tude, — which, inasmuch as it is oppressive, deserves 
to be reckoned unnatural, — as soon as an unequal 
distribution of property takes place, there will be 
those, who, for the sake of devoting themselves the 
better to different labors, or else of avoiding labor 
in every shape, will be disposed to compensate oth- 
ers for doing many things for them, in preference to 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 343 

doing them for themselves ; and, on the other hand, 
there will be a class, who will find it for their inter- 
est to render such services, for the sake of such 
compensation. Again ; when arts and trades come 
into use, it is manifestly for the advantage of those 
who practice, and those who would learn them, to 
make an exchange of service on the one part for 
instruction on the other. From these two occasions 
arises the relation of masters, to domestic servants, 
and to apprentices. The apostle, in the text, had 
reference to the condition of involuntary servitude, 
which, though Christianity could not approve, it did 
not undertake at once to overthrow, but left to be 
supplanted in the gradual progress of its benevolent 
principles ; steadily true, in this as in other things, 
to the rule of not rudely disturbing the political re- 
lations of society, but merely establishing principles, 
which, in the gradual course of time, would surely 
and safely reform them all. Even that condition 
was no disgrace to him whose lot was cast in it, 
however disgrace might attach to one, who had un- 
righteously reduced a fellow-man to that condition, 
or who unrighteously detained him there. Still less 
can any dishonor be supposed to attach to a place 
of service, in any form in which it exists among us. 
We are all servants, one to another. At least, we 
ought to be. Serving in no way, — it is equally true, 
in both senses of the phrase, that we have no busi- 
ness in the world. Children owe service to parents, 
professional men to the needy, friend to friend, the 
citizen to the state. The master of christians 
c came to minister,' and taught his disciples that he 



344 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

that would be chief among them should be ' as he 
that doth serve.' There are differences of dignity, 
no doubt, in the different departments of service ; 
but, as far as belongs to the mere relation of service, 
he who, by his own free contract, performs his part 
in another apartment of our dwellings, is as honor- 
able as the revered man, whom we engage to heal 
our distempers, or protect us in the administration 
of the law. 

In the remarks, suggested by the text, which I 
am now to offer, I shall have regard to the relation 
of apprentices, as well as to that of domestic ser- 
vants, since, though the duties and the privileges, be- 
longing to these two spheres of service, are not the 
same, the nature of the relation is, and consequently 
the principles of moral obligation connected with 
both. Many of the remarks to be made, it will be 
seen might even be extended in their application to 
other departments of trust and agency ; such, es- 
pecially, as imply, like these, an obligation to be con- 
trolled by an employer's will, as well as to attend 
to his interest. 

1. The directions of the text to servants, respect 
the nature of the service to be rendered, and the 
spirit which is to actuate them in rendering it. 

1. As to the first, its precept is, c servants, obey in 
all things your masters according to the flesh' ; in 
all things, that is, in which they are your masters ; 
in all things, to which their authority as masters 
rightfully extends. 

Of course, this does not extend so far, as to ren- 
der obligatory any unlawful command. It is too 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 345 

obvious a principle to need to be stated, that the 
divine precepts are not to be contravened through 
submission to any human will ; though, in fact, the 
apostle has introduced this qualification in the con- 
text, where he declares that that obedience to which 
servants are bound, they ought to render in the 
fear of God. A domestic servant cannot plead his 
obligation to obey, in justification of any agency of 
his in the guilty pleasures of his master ; nor can an 
apprentice excuse himself, on that ground, for adul- 
terating commodities in which his master deals, or 
being concerned in any deception in a sale or pur- 
chase, or in executing any fraud upon the revenue. 
Again ; where servitude is voluntary, the obedience, 
which is contracted for, is all that is due ; and this is 
either matter of express stipulation, or else is de- 
termined by the common practice of that particular 
place, which a person undertakes to fill. A servant 
does not hire himself, to be the subject of arbitrary 
and oppressive impositions ; nor does compliance 
with these make any part of the obedience, to which 
he is in conscience bound. He has not engaged for, 
and therefore is not obliged to undertake, the offices 
of any other place than his own ; though here, pro- 
vided what is proposed to him do not amount to 
unnecessary or severe exaction, he will do well not 
to insist on his immunities too rigorously, but rather, 
as he hopes to be liberally treated himself, be dis- 
posed to make himself useful in extraordinary services, 
for which occasion may call. And the obedience, 
which is the duty of both, is to be manifested in an 
orderly compliance with the regulations, established 

44 



346 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

for the government of the place, where service is 
rendered ; in ' not answering again,' as the apostle 
calls it in another place, that is, in refraining 
from contradictions, provocations and expressions of 
resentment ; in docility, and a deportment in all 
respects attentive and respectful. 

2. Servants are taught, again, the spirit, in which 
their obedience is to be rendered, in the injunctions 
to obey, ' not with eye-service, as men pleasers, but 
in singleness of heart, fearing God,' and to do all, 
whatsoever they do, ' heartily as to the Lord, and 
not unto men.' 

They are to practice a religiously conscientious 
faithfulness to them, who, for the time being, are their 
' masters according to the flesh ;' which is, in fact, 
nothing more than faithfulness to their own engage- 
ments. They have stipulated to receive compensa- 
tion from another, for attending in their respective 
departments of service to his interests ; and that ac- 
cordingly they are bound in justice carefully to do. 
They must be industrious in the use of that time, 
of which they have contracted to give another the 
benefit. They must be studious to employ their 
best skill in his behalf. They must be punctual and 
precise in the services which are looked for at their 
hands, which it is often quite as important should 
be well timed, as in other respects well executed. 
They must regard themselves as confidential persons. 
Their situation is one of trust, which it is a great 
sin to betray. Whatever, not meant for the world, 
comes to their knowledge, in the freedom of domes- 
tic communion, or in the agencies in which they are 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 347 

employed, it is gross perfidy in them to reveal. 
Their master's property is in their hands, for their 
use and for their management. In the former ease, 
they are to take care not to use it wastefully, which 
is a species of dishonesty, but with all reasonable 
frugality and care. In the latter, they are to trans- 
act business in relation to it with exactness and at- 
tention, and a solicitous endeavor to exert, in proper 
ways, their best skill, and promote, to the utmost, 
their master's interest. In both cases, I need not 
say that it is shameful dishonesty, aggravated by the 
wickedness of a breach of trust, to convert to their 
own advantage what has been committed to their 
care, either by that ' purloining,' which St Paul 
specifies as a sin they must avoid, or in any way 
different from what was contemplated ; and, in both, 
not only are they not to allow themselves to injure 
him whom they serve, by design, or inattention, or 
improvidence, but they may not connive at it in 
fellow-servants, nor knowingly permit any other 
persons to do it. Children are more or less subject 
to good or ill treatment from them ; and to treat 
these unkindly, or do anything to corrupt their minds, 
is a most cruel treachery to the confidence reposed 
in them. In short, the obligations of this condition 
require nothing less, than that whatever duty, ac- 
cording to express or implied stipulation, belongs to 
it, be performed heartily, as to the Lord and not 
unto men ; not with the hypocritical, sycophantic 
eye-service of men-pleasers, but with a conscien- 
tious and self-denying, an alert and cheerful and 
cordial diligence, — a diligence and attention as 



348 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

scrupulous in the master's absence, as beneath his 
eye. A servant's or an apprentice's time is his mas- 
ter's. So is the best use of his talents. They have 
been engaged, and they must be given. It is not a 
question to be raised, whether a master's interest is 
to suffer, or to fail to be promoted, by endeavors 
which, in his proper sphere, a servant is capable of 
making. The strictest obligations are upon him, not 
to suffer such an event to take place by his sloth, 
or negligence, or voluntary incapacity, or ill will. 
God holds him accountable for his fulfilment of 
this trust. The gospel has laid its solemn charge 
upon him, that, 'with good will,' he 'do service, and 
show all good fidelity,' adorning thus 'the doctrine of 
God our saviour in all things.' 

II. The injunction upon masters to discharge 
their duty, is founded upon the general obligation of 
equity. ' Masters, give unto your servants that which 
is just and equal.' 

It is clearly just, to give them punctually and 
readily the wages of their labor ; and to withhold 
these by unreasonable delay, is one of the most in- 
excusable forms of oppression of the poor. We 
have no right to interpret their remaining with us 
into acquiescence, on their part, in such delay. They 
may not be able to leave us at the time, without some 
inconvenience or disadvantage ; or they may think, 
that, remaining with us, they have the best prospect 
of obtaining, by and by, what is their right. 

We have no right to exact from them service of 
a different kind or degree, from that comprehended 
in the contract. They may submit to the demand, 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 549 

rather than incur dismission, or expose themselves to 
our displeasure ; but this does not hinder it from be- 
ing unjust on our part. We cannot righteously take 
such advantage of our superiority. The most we are 
justified in doing, is to solicit extraordinary services 
as a favor, which we should then hold ourselves 
ready to acknowledge by some suitable return. 
Apprentices may not equitably be employed in me- 
nial or other offices, different from what it was un- 
derstood that they should undertake, to the preju- 
dice of the instruction, which they engaged with 
us to obtain. Their instruction is their wages ; 
and to abate from this, for the sake of serving 
any advantage or convenience of our own, is to 
practice on them a double fraud, laying on them at 
the same time a more burdensome duty, and requit- 
ing it with a scantier compensation. 

When either leave us, whether sooner than we 
will or not, they have a claim to the fullest and 
promptest testimony from us to all their good quali- 
ties. It is no more than common justice, to say of 
any man all the good we may, when and as occasion 
calls for it ; and, in this case, it would be peculiarly 
ungenerous and unequitable to refuse such justice, 
because that testimony, which it is in our power 
alone to give, is precisely what will be everywhere 
demanded of the individual, to give him now his fair 
chance in the business by which he is to get a live- 
lihood. 

No advantage, which either may expect from our 
service, will justify us in incommoding them with 
needless hardships, fatigues, interruptions, or re- 



350 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

straints. Not only are a proper maintenance, and 
suitable accommodations, as custom regulates such 
things, not only are these what we have virtually 
engaged, and they are authorized to look for. But 
further ; as we would have them construe their ob- 
ligations generously, so we should do ours. We 
should have a considerate and kind regard for their 
comfort and ease, and, in the arrangement of their 
services, endeavor to allow them such privileges as 
we may, — not inconsistent with the objects, for 
which we have engaged them, — of intermission 
from their tasks ; of sufficient opportunity for re- 
freshment and rest ; of the command, for their own 
purposes, of some time which they may appear 
disposed well to employ, whether for improvement, 
or, in due time and place, for harmless pleasure ; 
and, in short, of manifold indigencies and forbear- 
ances, which, without undertaking to supply their 
places for them, it is hourly in our power to practice, 
and by practising to make their lives much happier. 
We should have a considerate and kind regard for 
their feelings. They have not engaged themselves 
to be the subjects of our caprice, nor the objects of 
our ill-temper ; and though they may have motives 
of their own for still consenting to this sacrifice, this 
is no excuse for us, when we call on them to make 
it. We are carefully to ' forbear threatening,' as 
the apostle directs, and all other offensive and irri- 
tating language. As much in our intercourse with 
them, as with those whom we call more our equals, 
we are to abstain from petulant and complaining 
habits ; from displeasure uncalled for, or unreasonable 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 351 

in degree ; or a useless expression of that sentiment, 
when it is reasonably felt. As far as the difference 
supposed exists, it should indeed teach us, not a less, 
but a peculiar caution in these particulars ; since vio- 
lent sallies to an inferior are more a compromitting 
of one's own dignity, and they are the commission 
of an outrage where it can be less resented on equal 
terms. The fidelity of their service is not to be 
groundlessly suspected ; nor such suspicion, when 
there appears ground for it, to be needlessly uttered ; 
nor, when uttered, in a harsh and wounding manner. 
They are not to be pained by an arrogant and con- 
temptuous demeanor, for their feelings are often 
delicate, and are always human. Their faults, when 
real, are not to be long resented, nor excessively 
punished, nor tauntingly rebuked ; but tenderly at 
first, and always, as long as correction is attempted 
at all, affectionately, at least calmly, blamed. A 
gentle, — I will say, a respectful, deportment, is the 
due of such dependents from us, as much as food 
and shelter ; and as far even as the mere attain- 
ment of our own purposes goes, it will be found in 
fact to be the firm and exact, but gentle master, who 
is the most punctiliously served. Their complaints 
and their apologies are entitled to a candid consid- 
eration from us. ' If I did despise, 7 well asked Job, 
' the cause of my man servant or of my maid ser- 
vant, when they contended with me, w T hat then shall 
I do, when God riseth up, and when he visiteth, 
what shall I answer him ? ' We should not only 
hold them exempt from our own peevishness and 
caprices, but take care to protect them against those 



352 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

of children and others beneath our control, in whose 
power they may more or less be. 

Above all things, we must be just to their charac- 
ters. Least of all purposes, did they come into our 
service to be corrupted by our conversation or our so- 
licitations, our example or our commands. If a de- 
pendant is directed to do an act, which in his view 
is criminal, he must not do it, it is true. At the 
boundary of the strictest innocence, his obligations 
are discharged. But he may be led to do that act 
by the habit, or the supposed duty, or the sup- 
posed necessity, or the apparent advantage, of obe- 
dience to his master's will ; and whether he be thus 
influenced or not, the master's sin, in knowingly at- 
tempting to put his authority to such a use, has 
been a complete, and a treacherous, and a gross one. 
Such instances as were named in the former con- 
nexion, of attempts to engage an apprentice in a 
fraud, whether in a contract of sale or on the reve- 
nue, or a domestic servant in a similar dishonesty 
in relation to household supplies, or in some agency 
of licentious vice, are instances in point. And I 
would seriously ask, whether, in its degree, a practice 
which one may be well pleased to see declining, if 
not almost obsolete among us, does not fall under 
the head of this remark ; — that of directing ser- 
vants to represent to visitors that we are abroad, 
when we would reserve our leisure for some other 
use at home. I am not questioning, that, as between 
us and our friends, the meaning which we under- 
stand each other to attach to words, is their mean- 
ing ■; and so far our integrity is unimpeached. But, 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 353 

will it not be the fact, that most or many of those 
whom we shall employ, whatever pains we may 
take to impress upon their minds the meaning of 
such language in its acceptation among us and our 
friends, will, after all, understand themselves, when 
they obey us, as uttering an untruth ; and then will 
it not be the fact, that we have seduced or tempted 
them to act unconscientiously ; and is not this a 
cruel injury, a great harm to do them ? Our com- 
mands are not the only influence, by which we may 
do them mischief. Our example is always in their 
view, and it addresses them, on some accounts, with 
peculiar force. We are in some sort their superiors ; 
and the very feeling of subordination has some ef- 
fect on the mind, to recommend what is witnessed 
in a higher station. And if they are well-disposed, 
they are disposed to be our friends ; to revere, as 
much as they may, as well as guard our characters ; 
and this feeling inclines them to an indulgent and 
favorable estimate of what we do, which we may 
abuse, if w r e will, to reconcile them to what is rep- 
rehensible in us, and would be so in them. Our 
conversation, — much of it, — is in their hearing. 
Giving us credit for better information, they are 
under some influence to adopt our opinions. Look- 
ing to us perhaps for a specimen of the habits of 
thinking, in walks of life, which they consider, at 
least, to be somewhat higher than their own, they 
will be apt to attach, in their own estimation, to 
different subjects, spiritual or worldly, trivial or of 
consequence, something of the same relative impor- 
tance, which it is plain we attach to them, from the 

45 



354 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

place which they hold in our free daily discourse. 
And this is an added reason of weight for taking 
strict heed that the habits of domestic communion 
be such, as to make it < good for the use of edifying,' 
of exerting a salutary influence on the understand- 
ing and heart ; at all events, that nothing be 
admitted into it, of a character to mislead or 
corrupt any mind. 

So much is just and equal to be given by masters 
to servants, estimating their claim by the standard 
of the strictest equity. All this is part of the en- 
gagement, broadly and religiously construed. And 
here, as a place of convenient division, I suspend 
these remarks, hoping to resume them in the after- 
noon, and to bring before your notice some other 
demands of the relation, which, if less clearly rec- 
ognized in the engagement which forms it, are, for 
the good of both parties, not less important to be 
met. 



SERMON XXIV. 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS 



COLOSSIANS III, 22 — IV. 1. 

SERVANTS, OBEY IN ALL THINGS YOUR MASTERS ACCORDING TO THE 
FLESH; NOT WITH EYE SERVICE, AS MEN PLEASERS, BUT IN SINGLE- 
NESS OF HEART, FEARING GOD. AND WHATSOEVER YE DO, DO IT HEAR- 
TILY, AS TO THE LORD, AND NOT UNTO MEN ; KNOWING THAT OF THE LORD 
YE SHALL RECEIVE THE REWARD OF THE INHERITANCE, FOR YE SERVE 
THE LORD CHRIST. BUT HE THAT DOTH WRONG SHALL RECEIVE FOR 
THE WRONG WHICH HE HATH DONE. 

AND THERE IS NO RESPECT OF PERSONS; MASTERS, GIVE UNTO YOUR 
SERVANTS THAT WHICH IS JUST AND EQUAL, KNOWING THAT YE ALSO 
HAVE A MASTER IN HEAVEN. 

Taking these words for a text, we began, this 
morning, to consider the mutual obligations of mas- 
ters and servants, in that happy state of society, 
where, whatever can be called servitude, is matter of 
equal and voluntary contract, and accordingly a condi- 
tion not more of important usefulness, than of perfect 
respectability in every proper view. In that class we 
saw reason, for the purpose in hand, to comprehend 
apprentices as well as domestic servants, because, 
though the duties and the privileges belonging to 
these two spheres of service are not the same, the 



356 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

nature of the relation is, and consequently the prin- 
ciples of moral obligation connected with both. 

We attended to the nature of the obedience due 
in this sphere, describing it as not extending to any- 
thing criminal, nor to anything of arbitrary, oppres- 
sive, or unlooked for imposition ; and to the spirit 
in which it needs to be rendered, illustrating this, 
in various specifications, as a spirit of scrupulous, 
single-hearted, conscientious, christian faithfulness. 
Proceeding to the duty of masters, summed up by the 
apostle in the giving of ' what is just and equal,' we 
saw that it comprehends, among other minor partic- 
ulars, prompt payment to a servant of his full wages, 
whether of money or of instruction ; lawful, author- 
ized and reasonable requisitions of labor ; suitable 
provision ; consideration for his convenience and 
feelings ; a candid lenity for his faults ; full testi- 
mony, when required, to his good qualities; and ab- 
stinence from irritating language and deportment, 
and from everything adapted injuriously to affect 
his character. So much, it was remarked in conclu- 
sion, is just and equal to be given by masters to ser- 
vants, estimating the claim of the latter by the 
standard of the strictest equity. All this is part of 
the engagement, broadly and religiously construed ; 
for it was no part of that engagement, that their 
condition should be made the worse by the service it 
pledges them to render to us. 

I resume the subject here by asking, whether, 
in that liberal and christian interpretation of the 
demands of justice, which represents it as always 
imposing an obligation where a power exists, we 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 357 

are not to regard it as requiring from masters a ser- 
vice, to such as serve them, beyond what has yet 
been specified ? The general obligation to benevo- 
lence, dictating to us to do all good as opportunity 
may occur, is no doubt strengthened in its requisi- 
tions of kindnesses to them, by the intimacy of the 
relation in which they stand to us ; and should they 
necessarily be withdrawn by sickness from our ser- 
vice, or even fall into sickness or want when they 
have left it, among other like necessitous persons 
they have a discriminating claim upon our care, 
on account of the tie which once bound them to us 
as inmates of the same dwelling, and this claim may 
be made to approach that of relationship by a long 
and faithful service. But provision, greater or less, 
according to need and desert, for those whose ser- 
vice with us is over, is not what I have here in view. 
My inquiry is, whether, — with all unobtrusive and 
unostentatious delicacy, no doubt, and for the most 
part, perhaps, by indirect ways, but still by others, 
as occasion permits and the disposition of the de- 
pendant favors. — advantage should not be expressly 
taken by masters of their control over the occupa- 
tions, and their influence over the minds, of those 
by whom they are served, to impart to these the in- 
comparable blessing of religious principle ? An in- 
corrigible servant is of course not for our own sakes 
to be tolerated beneath our roof, unless we are 
ready to take the hazard of bringing disorders into 
our household, discredit on our name, and depravity 
into our children's minds. It is due to them, as well 
as to ourselves, that their vices, should have no 



358 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

countenance, nor, while they are under our author- 
ity, go without remonstrance and restraint, from us ; 
and they should soon be made to know, that, not 
reforming their lives, it is not we whom they can 
serve. And for those of a different description, 
does anything less than I have suggested seem to 
be claimed by the apostle, where, in his first 
epistle to Timothy, he calls on believing masters 
' not to despise them because they are brethren ; 
but rather do them service, because the partakers 
of the benefit are faithful and beloved ;' and again, 
where, in his epistle to Philemon, he intreats him to 
receive Onesimus again, as ' above a servant, even 
as a brother beloved, both in the flesh,' — that is, 
as a common son of Adam, — ' and in the Lord,' — 
that is, as a fellow disciple of Christ ? 

The privileges, public and private, of the Lord's 
day, it is manifestly our duty as little as possible to 
abridge for them. Those privileges are every one's 
birthright in a christian land ; and except as far as, 
in a reasonable view, is necessary for the safe and 
orderly carrying on of the system of life, they can- 
not be rightfully encroached upon, by any authority. 
To employ a clerk on that day in his accounts or 
correspondence, or a domestic servant in attendance 
upon our pleasures of the road or of society at home, 
is far from doing by him what is just and equal. 
It cannot be regarded as an unauthorized interfer- 
ence, or as transcending our obligations, if we 
further endeavor that the leisure of the Lord's day, 
thus kept by us uninvaded, be profitably passed by 
them in regular attendance on public worship, and a 



DUTIES OP MASTERS \nd SERVANTS 859 

good use of its retirement. At that and at other 
times, we shall do well to attend to providing them 
with such useful and religious reading, as we shall 
generally find them desirous to command to occupj 
their vacant hours, and grateful to us if we will un- 
dertake to supply. And at that and at other times, 
as opportunity occurs, we may well regard ourselves 
as in the way of rendering good and acceptable ser- 
vice, when we may guide them by advice, which, 
from their circumstances or characters, they may 
seem to need; or impress on their minds, by our sin- 
cere and affectionate testimony, a sense of the ex- 
cellence of the christian life. Neither of these 
offices can be hastily or obtrusively undertaken. 
Either, attempted in anything of an assuming man- 
ner, may be repelled, as implying the claim to a 
right which is not acknowledged. But when a mu- 
tual confidence in each other's good will has grown 
up, as it ought, both will be welcomed, and de- 
sired, and profited by. 

It is a great privilege to the inferior members of 
our household, to unite with us, day by day, in the 
services of domestic prayer. Vast blessings to 
them may attend on that opportunity. 

For children committed to us to be brought up 
under our roof, in this capacity, there is an es- 
pecially strong claim for the exertion of a religious 
influence ; and for systematically exerting it, in that 
case, at least, an authority is conveyed, which leaves 
no room for hesitation. The interest which parents 
have in them cannot be communicated to us, nor 
can all the responsibleness of parents be transferred. 



360 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

But, in the absence of their natural guides, the con- 
trol, with which we are invested, carries along with it 
a demand to see such children reared up 'in the nur- 
ture and admonition of the Lord.' The purity of 
their morals is our charge. To endeavor to instil 
christian principles into their minds, and form their 
characters, while in the forming state, to the christ- 
ian model, is matter of christian obligation to us. 

Apprentices, who are inmates of our families, are, 
for the time being, in the place to us of children ; 
and, as to religious instruction and advantages, as 
well as in other respects, must be objects of a sim- 
ilar care. For others, who, while they serve us, 
remain the sharers of their parents' home, we are 
dispensed from this responsibility ; parental pro- 
tection, in most respects, continuing still to be ex- 
tended to them. But there is yet another class, 
who, I greatly fear, constitute a very exposed por- 
tion of society, and for whom it is fully time that 
more thought was taken. Year by year, there come 
into the city numbers of youth of good prospects, 
of happy promise to their friends, and as yet fair 
characters, to take at first the subordinate tasks in 
the business by which they hope in due time to get 
their living. Dismissed from the domestic watch 
of their parents' home, where their purity had hith- 
erto been protected, and not received into the house 
of their employers, they suddenly become, except 
in their hours of service, completely their own mas- 
ters at the most tempted age. In the excitement 
of the first view of a gay and crowded capital, in- 
experienced, new to the exercise of such entire lib- 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 361 

erty, they dwell for the most part with a number 
of their equals, who may improve or may corrupt 
them ; but at all events free, through their hours of 
leisure, from any control or effectual oversight. Of- 
ten, it may be supposed, no cognizance whatever is 
taken by their masters of the way in which they 
employ the time, not required to be past by them at 
their place of business. Unquestioned, they are at 
liberty to disturb the night with their revellings, and 
profane the sabbath, and annoy its quiet worship- 
pers, with the speed and noise of their excursions of 
boisterous mirth ; and, through the means of this 
license, falling in with the solicitations and example 
of bad company, it is to be feared that not a few, 
without having, like others, principle enough of 
their own to protect them, are ruined, year by year. 
I would ask, whether the public quiet is not to be 
protected from them, or, what is of more conse- 
quence, whether their own innocence is not to be 
protected against their own inexperience ? If this 
is to be done, by whom must it be done, except by 
masters, to whom alone, in the absence of parents, 
they are directly responsible ? Is it not due from 
masters to them, to extend some superintendence 
over the course which they are taking, and endeavor 
to raise some barriers between them and tempta- 
tion ; to interpose for their security with seasonable 
counsel ; to open to them their own houses, and put 
them, for their hours of relaxation, in the way of 
other safe and improving society ; to facilitate their 
attention to useful and engaging studies ; to take 
care that they choose their homes, where the influ- 

46 



362 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

ences of domestic association upon them will be 
salutary ; and to provide for them the means of a 
profitable employment of the Lord's day, and have 
it understood that it is expected of them to employ 
those means, — as a privilege, if they are wise 
enough so to esteem it, — and if not, then as a duty, 
which they who are wiser feel bound to prescribe ? 

III. As to motives to the mutual discharge of the 
duties which have been considered, such as are ob- 
vious enough are to be found, in the regard which 
may well be paid to their present interest by the par- 
ties respectively; and scripture adds other and higher. 

Other things being equal, the most faithful ser- 
vant will be the most indulgently treated, honorably 
confided in, and liberally recompensed ; and the 
most equitable and kindest master will be the best 
served. On neither side is anything apt to be lost 
by a generous fulfilment of duties to the other. A 
watchful and earnest fidelity in service is one of the 
qualities the surest to inspire esteem, trust and af- 
fection, and numerous opportunities belong to this 
relation, for manifesting these sentiments in ways to 
be desired and valued ; and the superior's interests, 
and comfort, and credit, are constantly subject to 
be promoted by that attentive good-will on the part 
of dependants, which a suitable deportment on his 
own part will scarcely fail to excite. The- self-de- 
nials, which duty may dictate on either side, are not 
likely to go long without an ample remuneration. 
And again ; apart from and beyond the more defi- 
nite advantages, derived from this reciprocation of 
favors, the happiness of living in a state of harmo- 
nious intercourse, of knowing that we are looked 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 363 

upon and listened to with respectful and friendly 
sentiments, is itself worth much more than the en- 
deavors it will cost ; endeavors indeed, which af- 
ter a little trial, a pleasure will be found in making. 
In giving an industrious, and vigilant, and skilful 
attention to their master's interests, servants will 
be qualifying themselves for a future successful 
prosecution of their own. In a frugal use of his 
property, they will be practising themselves in that 
prudence, which must be an instrument of their own 
rise. In establishing a character for trustworthiness 
and capacity, they will be laying up what hereafter 
will prove their best stock in trade. And masters 
may well consider the cares they may take for the 
religious benefit of their dependants to have been 
well-bestowed, if they look no further than to the 
uses of the rigid integrity and christian faithfulness 
which will thus have been brought into their service, 
and to the influence to be exerted on their children 
by persons having constant access to their minds. 

But scripture is careful to place the obligation of 
both these classes of duties, expressly on the ground 
of a distinct religious accountableness. As early 
as the rude times of the Old Testament dispensation, 
the rights of bondmen were protected by the sol- 
emnly sanctioned divine enactment, ' thou shalt not 
rule over them with rigor, but shalt fear thy God.' 
And the gospel spoke alike in its own authoritative 
and benignant spirit, when it enjoined on masters to 
be just and equal in their exactions and their rec- 
ompenses, remembering that they too had a master 
in heaven ; a master infinitely higher exalted above 
them, than they were above any, whose services they 



364 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

used ; a master, with whom there was no respect 
of persons, but from whom, whoever had done wrong, 
bond or free, should finally receive for the wrong he 
had done. And on servants it took special care to 
impress the view, that nothing of what might seem 
to be the inferiority of their condition, attached to 
the obligations which in it they were required to 
fulfil ; but that it was a dignified, an exalted service, 
in which they were enjoined to toil, — a service, 
which though men no better than themselves might 
seem to be its immediate objects, was, in fact, when 
rendered with conscientious aims, a service ren- 
dered to the greatest of masters, and accordingly 
of the sublimest kind. 4 Ye serve the Lord Christ,' 
they are told, when ye obey in all things your mas- 
ters according to the flesh, and, whatsoever ye do, 
do it heartily as unto the Lord. When they are 
exhorted to an humble submission to them, who 
came from the hand of nature no better than their 
equals, and stand in the view of God no higher than 
as perhaps less favored fellow-children, it is on no 
grounds implying degradation, but in the character 
of ' servants of Christ, doing the will of God from 
the heart ; with good will doing service, as to the 
Lord and not to men.' They are to count their 
own masters ' worthy of all honor,' not through the 
constraint merely of any tie of human obligation, 
but in view of the pious and noble end, ' that the 
name of God and his doctrine be not blasphemed.' 
They are to ' show all good fidelity, and please their 
own masters well in all things,' ' that they may 
adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all 
things.' They are to be ' subject to their masters 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 365 

with all fear, and that not only to the good and gen- 
tle, but also to the froward ; ' and the reason is, that 
' this is thankworthy, if a man for conscience towards 
God endure grief, suffering wrongfully.' They are to 
be content to ' abide in the same calling wherein they 
were called,' and having been ' called, being ser- 
vants, not to care for it,' because ' he that is called 
in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's free man, 
likewise also he that is called, being free, is Christ's 
servant.' And, finally; as it was to him that their 
conscientious service was to be rendered, so it was 
to him, — not to men, who were wholly unable fitly 
to remunerate it, who were utterly incompetent to be- 
stow such a compensation as they were authorized to 
hope, — to him that they were to look for its requital, 
' knowing that of the Lord they should receive 
the reward of the inheritance.' The duty of both, 
in short, was christian duty, required by the author- 
ity of the gospel, and encouraged by its promise of 
the wages of everlasting life to whoever, striving to 
' adorn in all things the doctrine of God their 
Saviour,' shall at last be found to have been faithful 
in their province of that service, which is the most 
' perfect freedom.' 

Through several successive Lord's days, I have 
been laying before you, my brethren, remarks on 
the duties of some prominent relations and condi- 
tions of life, which had not chanced before to be 
distinctly considered together by us, within the term 
of my ministry. The last which I intended to pro- 
pose, in this series of subjects, is that which has en- 
gaged our meditations to day. If there is some 



366 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

disadvantage in discussing such, on account of a large 
portion of a christian audience not being embraced 
within the class, whose distinguishing obligations are 
at any given time set forth, this is partly compensated 
by the circumstance, that each may, in his turn, find 
the duties of his place in the social sphere examined, 
and, — when they are, — exhibited with a special, 
familiar, and detailed distinctness. If our honor lies 
in acting well our part, if the question ' Lord, what 
wouldst thou have me to do,' is to be answered in 
those indications of providence, which we may read 
in the condition we are called to fill, then the in- 
quiries what that condition, what those relations 
are, and what the duties, appropriate to each, in 
which God is to be served, our fellow-men to be 
benefited, and our own spiritual interests. to be ad- 
vanced, are inquiries of the highest moment to us. 
When the multitudes flocked to John the baptist by 
Jordan, the publicans and soldiers and others, sever- 
ally asked of him rules of life, suited to their re- 
spective circumstances ; and such rules he gave, 
recognizing thereby the truth, that religion applies 
and adapts its principles of universal rectitude, to 
the varied tasks and exigencies of the different class- 
es and connexions of society ; and that to enter 
into the spirit of this adjustment, — rightly to make 
this application, — is an important office of religious 
wisdom. As to the circumstances and relations 
which have come under our notice, they are all of 
so well-defined a nature, that no one, who will but 
entertain the question, can remain in a moment's un- 
certainty, whether they are his own, and whether, 
accordingly, the duties which belong to them have a 



DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 367 

claim upon his regard ; and we have now been en- 
deavoring to give to this easily accessible knowledge 
a practical use, by examining with some minuteness 
what these respective obligations are. 

The investigation, my friends, never inopportune, 
is not without its congruity with the natural medi- 
tations of the season, at which we have arrived ; 
and, in this view, may it not be our aim to attempt 
to extract some profit from it ? We are resolving, 
it may be, that the coming year, should our lives 
be prolonged beyond it, shall be remembered by 
us hereafter as an era of improvement in our char- 
acters. To give the resolution efficacy, do we not 
need to do something more, than form the general 
purpose of virtuous endeavor ? Shall w T e not do 
well, to give it definiteness and direction, by repre- 
senting to ourselves, what those departments of duty 
are, in which our individual self-discipline is to be 
exercised ? And, as a help to this, may not the spe- 
cific obligations of the several places w T hich we fill, 
advantageously be brought under our review ? Are 
we rich or poor, young or old, prosperous or afflicted ; 
and as such have we privileges or trials ? As such 
we have duties too ; and if the duties be done, the 
best of the other privileges will be far surpassed, 
and the heaviest of the trials may be cheerfully 
borne. Do we rule, or do we serve ? We fill in 
either case a sphere of responsible, satisfactory, and 
useful action ; and there we, like him whom we 
should copy, must be about our father's business. 
Do we sustain the filial, or the parental relation, 
or both ; the conjugal, the fraternal, or that of friend- 
ship ? It is a great thing, to be a good husband or 



368 DUTIES OF MASTERS AND SERVANTS. 

wife, brother or sister, friend, child, or parent. 
Great benefits are conferred, great happiness is se- 
cured, great honor in man's sight, and much more 
in God's, is won, by the maintenance of that charac- 
ter ; and to resolve to be eminently such from this 
moment, is a glorious resolution, which a man is to 
be warmly congratulated for having formed. 

Forming resolutions of this character, my friends, 
we are already happy, — sure to be more and more 
so, the longer and more strenuously we strive to 
carry them into effect. That is no saw of books, 
no wordy pretence of the pulpit, that in proportion 
as we serve God and man, we best serve our- 
selves, as well for time as for eternity. It is what 
experience, however evaded, insists on teaching us. 
You, and I, and every one, according as we have 
hitherto sought our happiness in this or in other 
ways, — in the success or the failure which has at- 
tended our endeavors, have begun to learn, from ex- 
perience, that great and governing truth. We are 
learning it better and better. The testimony of 
every finished year, as yet, has added, if we have 
listened to it, to the distinctness of this conviction ; 
and every coming year, should others come, will 
utter to us, before it parts, its own acquiescence 
in the lesson of all which have preceded. My wish, 
then, has the strictest possible accordance, my friends, 
with the wishes which soon will greet you, when I 
pray God, that the year, about to begin, may be to 
those, who shall survive to do its work, and gather 
its experience, an innocent, a useful, and a religious 
year ; a year of stern self-control, of prosperous be- 
nevolent endeavor, and of vigorous growth in grace. 



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